


I'll Be Good

by carverhawkes



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Necromancy, Non-Canonical Character Death, Pining, Protect Clan Lavellan, Slow Burn, The Masked Empire, The Winter Palace, cullrian - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-09-07 22:40:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 23,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8818957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carverhawkes/pseuds/carverhawkes
Summary: "What is the old Dalish curse? 'May the Dread Wolf take you'?""And so he did." ----Ellana Lavellan never thought she'd see the Dread Wolf ever again after meeting him in the Fade. Never could she imagine falling in love with him.





	1. Prologue

The Lavellan clan always found it difficult to contain their children from exploring the woods. To an extent, they understood the curiosity- after all, it was only Elven nature. But there were times when the children went beyond curious, and downright wily. They would slip off into the night, pulling the wool over their parents eyes. It wasn't uncommon either for a parent to stumble across the body of their child, mutilated by whatever lurked in the woods.

They were too young to fully understand the danger, even when they attended the funerals of their fellow childhood friends. The child elves would cast confused glances at one another, earning shrugs as if to say 'you probably know more than I do.'

After a while, as they grew out of childhood, the children stopped wandering. By the age of eight, most of them began to train as rogues and warriors. They would go off on hunts, not returning for days on end. Only a few children remained- ones who were too weak, ones who were needed at camp, and the mage.

Ellana Lavellan was always the oddball. Even in her younger years, she would be excluded by the other children. She would sit on a log in the distance, watching the other elves frolic amongst each other and play games whilst she sat alone, a sad frown etched upon her face.

She would often ask her mother as to why the other children would not play. But her mother would just sit her down with a June knot, whilst uttering "you are too great, lethallan." In Ellana's mind, that didn't mean very much.

So she continued her clan life as an outcast. She had no friends, apart from her mother, who could rarely find the time for her. Ellana could not be blamed for wandering off to the Fade so often. There had to be something in this vast expanse of it- had to be something that wanted to befriend her.

Obviously, she was aware of the danger of demons. Keeper Deshanna has gravely warned her about the Fade and what lurked within, looking for a vessel. Ellana had wrinkled her nose when she was told, because, why would she want some stinky demon living in her body?

It wasn't until she became older did she understand the true attraction to the Fade. It was a place of solace for her, a place where for once, she didn't care about being alone. But she was never truly alone, there was always a presence that hung over her, like she was being watched. Strangely, it was a comforting feeling, rather than menacing.

The first time Ellana encountered him, she had been wandering the Fade forest at night. It shared a lot of similarities to the forest they were living in now, only it was totally unfamiliar. The further she wandered into the Veil, the more guilt set in her stomach like stone. Deshanna had warned her enough times, yet she continued. Was there a reason for her disobeying? Not really, nothing more than just venturing to find something beyond.

He had been sat on a mossy boulder. Crouched over with his elbows on his knees. Ellana had approached cautiously. Even she knew that a heavily cloaked figure in the woods probably wasn't a good sign.

"Hey," she had spoken up boldly. His head snapped up so quickly his hood almost slipped down. "What're you doing?"

"Run along, da'len," the deep voice grumbled, sounding thoroughly irritated. "You're disturbing me."

"You're not even doing anything," Ellana pointed out, folding her arms indignantly. "You're being rude."

If she had been able to see his face, she would've seen his eyebrows raising up at her surprising brashness. She was such a scrap of a creature, she didn't look like she had the ability to have such a strong voice.

"I am being rude? Did your clan never teach you any manners? That is no way to talk to the Dread Wolf."

Ellana froze, eyebrows knitting together. "You're not Fen'Harel," she said accusingly. "If you were you'd be a wolf." She said it with such confidence and belief that it was hard not to agree with her.

"You better run along before I do summon one."

Why was the da'len giggling? "Keeper Dashenna said you eat little Dalish girls. Are you going to eat me?"

Fen'Harel paused, lips tightening in irritation. "I might do," he said aggressively. "Leave now and I will spare you."

"Alright, alright!" the Dalish girl said, holding her hands up in defeat. She stopped, grinning cheekily. "May the Dread Wolf never catch your scent," she said, before sprinting away and giggling to herself.

It was a while until they met again. This time, Ellana was older. Perhaps by a year, though still not in double figures. Her clan had travelled far away from the woods where she'd first met the Dread Wolf in the Fade. Maybe they were a hundred miles away. Maybe more. It was impossible to tell.

Ellana had taken to practicing her magic in the protective shroud the Fade gave her. Being in the open, isolated space gave her the peace and room she needed to cast. Deshanna had given her a few simple spells to learn, and by the Dread Wolf, she was working hard to master them.

A few wisps of fire delicately plumed from her fingertips. She had been to immersed in her achievement and the fragility of her spell to notice a cloaked figure sweep past.

Casting a flame had given her newfound confidence. "Hey!" she shouted again, repeating the exact words she'd said the first time she saw him. "I'm talking to you!"

The figure stopped. It was amazing, really, how they'd listened. Or not killed her yet. "It's you!" she exclaimed, then squinted to make sure she was seeing properly. It was impossible to tell in the darkness.

"Not you again," the man sighed deeply. His voice had gotten deeper since Ellana had last spoken to him. "I expected you to be eaten by the darkspawn by now."

"Why do you think we keep travelling so much?"

The figure sighed and shifted on his feet. In the dark, Ellana saw he wasn't wearing shoes. Her eyes travelled upwards to no avail. His face was truly hidden.

"Do you want to see some of my magic?" Ellana asked him brightly. "I've been practising really hard."

"No."

"Well fine," Ellana grumbled. "You don't have to be so rude. Did your clan teach you no manners?"

The man emitted a strange coughing noise. Ellana didn't catch on that the noise was a muffled laugh.

"Stop being a pest, da'len," the man said grumpily, once he'd recovered from her absurdly rude comment. "Go back to your clan."

"I don't want to. It's lonely and boring. I think I'll practise a bit longer," Ellana said loftily, determined not to do anything this man told her to.

"Very well," he said irritatedly. He started walking, then stopped, turning his heel and faced the child once final time. "Perhaps using your right hand would give you a more successful result."

This was the only time she would ever take his advice.

They met two more times after that. The penultimate time they encountered was as uneventful as the last two. It was always in the same circumstances; unfamiliar Fade forests in the dead of night.

However, the fourth time changed everything.

She was eleven, beginning to show signs of womanhood. Deshanna was trying her hardest to shape her into Keeper material, but all of the clan knew Ellana could never make it. She was far to reckless, had an inclination to disobey rules and was far too flighty to hold any position of power. Instead of facing her problems, she would rather disappear into the Fade.

It took her a while to sleep that night. There was a heaviness in her mind which it made impossible for her to slip off peacefully. She laid tossing and turning for an age, scrunching her eyes tightly as she knuckled them, hissing Elven curses under her breath. Fenedhis!

Ellana had no intention of causing trouble in the Fade that night. All she knew was that the anger coursing through her veins was beginning to become incredibly hard to control. She was bound to cause trouble, she always did when she was like this- whether with her clan or in the Fade.

As it happened, trouble came looking for her.

Ellana had never come across wolves on her own. She had always been with the hunters or warriors when wolves had surrounded them. Even then, there was no real threat. All it had taken was a few arrows and swords to be rid of them.

Now Ellana faced them, completely unarmed, with only her mana and limited knowledge of magic to protect her. Every nerve in her body was wired with adrenaline, causing her to shake involuntarily.

She began casting. They were only feeble ice spells she was in the process of learning. They were sufficient in keeping the wolves at bay, because in no time she was practically pinned against a tree as they honed in on her.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she wished for a painless death. To go out the same way her father, Faron, did when she was but a babe. Was it possible for a peaceful death? Ellana wasn't dead yet, but this was the most painful thing that had ever happened to her, even worse than when her foot had been run over by the land ship.

When she opened her eyes, she saw a shimmering blue light surrounding her. For a few frightening moments, she thought she'd entered some sort of afterlife. But no. This was a shield. A magical ward. 

" _Fen'Harel ma halam_ ," a voice growled, even more terrifying than the wolves themselves.

There was something oddly magical about seeing the wolves summoned away, turning on their haunches as they slunk away, tails between their legs.

"I should've known it was you," he snapped. "Wherever you go you seem to cause trouble."

"Then why do you keep following me?"

Silence hit both of them. He drew himself upright, possibly to look more threatening. He had just saved her life, how could she feel threatened?

"Ma serannas," Ellana said gratefully, head bowed.

"Do not," he said gruffly. "I do not need nor deserve thanks."

 _But you saved my life,_ she thought _._

"I haven't seen you in a while," Ellana observed. "You're smaller than I remember. Or I've gotten taller."

"I don't have time for this," he said scornfully. Yet he remained put.

"I should go if you don't," Ellana said sadly. "Thank you, friend."

He choked slightly. "I am not your friend," he said harshly. He couldn't get over the outrageousness of the outspoken Dalish girl.

"Yet you have shown me kindness I do not know in my own clan," she said, with her signature frown.

If this was the most kindness she'd experienced...

He hadn't realise she'd disappeared into the thick undergrowth.

They never met again.

***


	2. The Mark

When Ellana Lavellan falls out the Fade, the whole world changes. Solas feels it, shuddering beneath his feet and threatening to pull him over. He watches the large tear in the sky bloom open, like a bud from a rose opening in the light of the sun. He leans against his staff, watching with mingled horror and fascination. As the tear grows, it becomes harder to look at. Everyone around him begins to panic as it swallows the majority of the clouds up. He's jostled and elbowed so much he's surprised he's still even stood upright.

Then, he's summoned by Seeker Cassandra. He's shackled and practically dragged to the dungeons where the woman is pacing in front of the cells- her handsome face contorted tightly. She looks up, her expression becoming even more pinched. Her lips practically disappear.

"Apostate," she says curtly. "Do you know what this is?" She gestures with a left hand in the air, and Solas knows what she's talking about.

He tells her what he thinks it is. A Breach. A thin Veil separating the real world from the Fade. She asks if it's dangerous. Absolutely. It has the potential to kill them all, if left untouched.

"I suggest you talk to your prisoner," Solas recommends in the smoothest tone he can manage. Cassandra scoffs. "She did create it, after all."

The Seeker instructs him to watch over her whilst she gathers the forces. She also threatens to have him executed as an apostate if he does not comply with her exactly how she wants it. He agrees, because he would prefer not to be executed. Especially at a time like this.

Solas is unshackled and granted permission to enter the cell, then the door shuts tightly behind him. He's certain he hears the jingle of keys over the clank of armour. He emits a small sigh. So much for fleeing.

In the centre of the room, the perpetrator of Breach is slumped on a stiff wooden chair. He notices the glint of metal around her wrists and sees she too is bound. Her neck is at an awkward angle, resting on her shoulder, as her legs lay out akimbo in front of her. Beneath the dirty robes, is a Dalish mage. Solas tries to hide his distaste.

Her left hand glows green, emanating a subtle crackling noise. She remains completely oblivious to it, so Solas bends down for a closer inspection. His eyes flicker upward to see if she's showing any signs of stirring.

It's her.

She's matured since he last saw her in the Fade. She has grown into her features well, and now has a Vallaslin, a sign she has come of Elven age. The freckles that once covered her face have faded with age, barely visible under her Vallaslin now. Her skin has darkened from sun exposure, and her hair as blonde as sin. An odd combination, especially for a Dalish.

Perhaps now she will stop messing in the Fade.

Solas studies her hand, inspecting it from all angles. It appears to be some sort of Anchor, something he knows from a lifetime of studying the Fade. She is of vital importance if they are to stop the Breach from growing. Solas is sure Cassandra already has a plan, something likely to be bullheaded and rash. He must stop her before the Seeker does anything to her.

Solas straightens himself up and makes his way to the door. He knocks on the metal, earning a grunt of a guard on the other side. "I need to speak to the Seeker," he announces.

"You'll have to wait," the guard grumbles. "She ain't back yet."

Solas pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "It is of major importance-"

"What she's doing is more important, Knife Ear. I'd behave if I were you, unless you want to end up on the block."

He sighs, taking a step back. There is no winning with this Shem. All that is left to do is wait for the Seeker's return and hope she hasn't done anything too foolhardy.

***

Ellana stumbles behind the Seeker, trying not to slip on the ice as she battles with a demon. She has faced Shade demons in the Fade before, but never like this. This time it's worse, because they've invaded her world. All because of her.

Cassandra told her she fallen out of the Fade and a huge a Breach had ripped open the heavens. It was a lot of information for someone who'd just woken up from being knocked out by Fade. Ellana is sure this is all some horrible nightmare, and when she finally does wake she'll be in her tent in the safety of the Lavellan camp.

She doesn't seem to be showing any signs of waking up soon.

They travel further down the valley where they majority of the fighting is taking place. Ellana is unsure of their location. The snow drifts make it difficult to see any distinct signs of familiarity. All she knows is that they're near the Frostbacks, she can see them from the crest of the hill.

The Seeker leads her prisoner down the valley. At the bottom, amongst the ruins, they meet some soldiers fighting off a large group demons.

In the middle of the fight, a green rift crackles in the air. Ellana watches in horror, then bends forward and grits her teeth in pain as the mark on her hand begins to crackle in sync with it.

A million questions are rushing through her mind. _Why is my hand connected to this? How did they even become integrated? What do I do now?_

"Quickly!" someone shouts from the din of fighting and crackling. "Before more come through!"

Ellana stands hopelessly as someone rushes to her side and yanks her hand skyward to face the rift. She can see the physical connection between her hand and the rift; a long, thick green stream of Fade energy.

The sensation the connection brings is strange. It's like Ellana is simultaneously being drained of her mana, but also gaining it in its rawest form. It elates her, and exhausts her at the same time. But it hurts. Blindingly so. It's like someone has plunged a knife in her palm and is twisting it to allow more magic to spill out.

And then it's abruptly over. Ellana gasps slightly at the loss of energy and cradles her hand to her chest. The pain has dulled considerably to a steady throb. There's no sign of the rift, which is the important thing.

"What did you do?" she asks the man who grabbed her arm. She takes a closer look at him, now she has the time to. He's an elf, who's considerably handsome even though he's bald. His eyes are wide and thoughtful, nose straight and narrow. He's also an apostate, judging by the shoddy robes and staff on his back.

 _Keep calm Ellana_ , she tells herself sternly. _Don't make an idiot out of yourself in front of him_.

He tells her about his theory of the mark on her hand closing the rifts, tells her that they're made of the same magic- which she's already guessed. She listens with wide eyes, trying to listen and not distract herself by watching his lips move. He's got a lovely voice too, she notices.

He's called Solas. The dwarf who's with him is called Varric, who also happens to be Cassandra's prisoner. She's Ellana, she tells them, pleased to meet you both.

Then the introductions are over. Cassandra and Varric create a lot of thick tension as they up through the valley this time. Ellana suppresses her giggles at Varric's smart-mouthed, quick-witted comments.

Cassandra takes them to a gate, stationed precariously on a bridge. Waiting for them is a man in a Chantry cleric's uniform, and a woman whose face seems to be mostly hidden behind a hood. It's soon revealed that these people are Chancellor Roderick and Leliana.

Roderick and Cassandra verbally tussle with each other, and the cleric manages to get Ellana involved too, who is stood silently minding her own business. He calls her a criminal, and orders his guards to ship her to Val Royeaux for a trial. Cassandra, to her credit, fights Ellana's corner valiantly. The elf is beginning to find a trickle of respect for the Seeker.

Ellana is allowed to chip in to decide which path she thinks they should take. She tells Cassandra to charge with the soldiers, which must be the right answer because the Seeker approves.

As they charge, they come across a man called Cullen who is enthralled in the fighting himself. Ellana only notices him because his blonde, Chantry-boy good looks stick out a mile in the misery and destruction.

Cullen is in a hurry to leave, and so are they. So they travel further to the temple where Leliana is waiting for them. She gives them a battle plan, warns them about the Breach and what they might face. Her eyes linger a little too long on Ellana's, and a little too pitifully for the elf's liking. She has to be valiant about this. She tilts her chin determinedly and hops over the stone barrier, eager for this to be over with.

Pain shoots all the way from Ellana's hand right around her body. Being so close to such a strong source of magic will kill her, she's sure of it. That's if the pain doesn't get her first.

A voice rings through the Breach. Forlorn, helpless and distant. " _Someone help me_!" it cries.

"What's going on here?" another shouts.

"That was your voice!" Cassandra exclaims as Ellana stares dumbstruck at it. "The Most Holy called out for you. But..."

She never finishes her sentence. Because at that moment, the Breach cracked and wispy dark figures rose in front of them- playing out the scene that happened beyond the Veil. A large skeletal figure and the Divine Justinia is all Ellana can see. Then she sees herself running forward to break up the conflict. The Divine tells her to run. She doesn't listen.

Cassandra floods her with accusatory questions once the smoke figures disappear. Ellana can't answer, because at the moment she doesn't feel coherent enough. She doesn't remember. _Please believe me_.

"The rift is not sealed, but it is closed," Solas says. "Albeit temporarily. I believe with the mark, the rift can be opened, and then sealed properly and safely."

There will be risks. But when is there ever not? Ellana agrees to it, even with the threat of demons. What else could she do?

They rally themselves. Soldiers position all around the temple courtyard, ready for the oncoming wave of demons. There's no telling how bad it will be. Ellana isn't sure whether she wants to know or not.

A Pride demon falls out of the rift. Huge and overpowering. The earth quivers beneath it. Ellana has never seen one in the flesh before, only have they ever taken the form of something in the Fade. It frightens her to know that every demon she talked to looks as hideous as this.

Thankfully, they aren't completely overpowered. They manage to kill the small battalion of demons that follow it first. Ellana manages to close the rift in the interval. Before anyone can kill the Pride demon, it opens a huge clawed hand and smacks her off her feet, sending her flying straight into a stone wall.

All there is to be heard is a crack. And then nothing.

***


	3. The Friend

Haven, as it turns out, isn't that bad after all. Especially with the steady influx of Redcliffe mages entering the village. Ellana finds it comforting to know that for once she isn't the only oddball, that there's an abundance of people just like her walking around without judgment.

Of course things aren't as cut and dry as that. Because of his previous rank in Kirkwall, Cullen has garnered the support of quite a few Templars, who stayed loyal to their Knight Captain even after the demolishing of the Chantry. They pick on the smaller mages, ones who don't have the backbone to defend themselves. Which is why Ellana takes on the role as their guardian, not afraid to shove the Templars away when needed and threaten them with her magic. Because if there's anything Templars fear, it is magic.

Ellana busies herself with newfound friends when not on a mission. Solas being one of them. The apostate is quite the interesting character. He tells Ellana about his experience in the Fade, which is much broader and colourful than hers. She always listens enraptured, hanging onto the easy thread of words. It's not just his looks that snare her in, it's his mind that fascinates her most. Granted, they disagree on the matter of Dalish. Ellana will fiercely defend her people to the day she dies, even if they did treat her as an outcast. Solas has an odd dislike for the Dalish, but if he has one for Ellana, he never shows it.

The Herald talks a lot to Vivienne too, even if she often feels three feet smaller when she does. Vivienne is a good woman, with a good heart- just a very frosty exterior. Luckily, she takes a shining to Ellana. Treats her like a pet, which Ellana assumes is the norm for Orlesians. She tries not to get riled by it. The main thing is is that they get along, and Vivienne is a very powerful ally.

Ellana is cautious around people like Sera and Bull. They are too brash for her liking, too intimidating- even though she's fully aware that's how many people outside Dalish clans behave.  
But that does not mean she is unwilling to talk to them. Ellana has just become introverted the more she's matured. The effect of always being alone.

In Haven, it's hard to ever feel alone though. If she isn't with her friends then she's in the war room with her advisors, who pour over maps and send her and her party on scouting missions. When she's not in the war room, she's doing business by the stables and forgery where she chats to Warden Blackwall; who is an introvert himself. Their companionship is gentle and consists of long stretches of silence, of which they're both content with. 

It's becoming quite a comfortable lifestyle, a routine Ellana thinks she can become accustomed too. Yet she cannot shake the feeling there's something missing from it. Perhaps someone to stand by her side throughout it all indefinitely. Someone to take the load off slightly. A best friend, a partner- just anyone.

That's where Dorian Pavus comes in.

At first, people are unsure of whether to approach him. Ellana hears the word 'Vint' muttered darkly a lot, and 'blood mage' is often thrown into the mix. It's a shame because Dorian is a very reasonable man. If he wasn't, he wouldn't have saved Ellana's party in Redcliffe and helped the mages. Ellana doesn't know him enough yet to like him, but suspects she would if they were to engage one another. She just needs to find the courage first.

Ellana watches him for a few days. He eats in the mess hall at the same time as her, and always occupies the far left corner. He brings a book with him, which he buries his nose in from the minute he sits down to when everyone begins to leave. Then, he goes to his quarters. Ellana always knows this because when she visits Solas, she sometimes sees his shape in the window before he quickly vanishes.

"What do you think of Dorian?" she asks the apostate one morning. Solas looks up, looking slightly thrown by the question.

"Arrogant," he answers simply. "Very forward, especially with you." If Ellana knew better, she would've detected a hint of sourness when he said this- borderline jealousy.

"Yes but what about the blood mage thing?" she prompts. "Do you not trust him?"

Solas thinks. "I cannot trust someone I do not know," he answers. "However, I do not share the same views on blood magic as everyone else does. It is an interesting branch of magic, and over the years has been warped and misconstrued."

"Yes," Ellana agrees. "It has. I'm sure not all blood mages are villainous abominations."

"Blood mages or Tevints?" Solas asks, with a slightly sloping smile. Ellana feels the tips of her ears heat slightly. He's seen through her this whole time. "If you are interested in the subject, why not go talk to him? I'm sure he would welcome the friendship."

So she does. She knocks on his hut door and awaits a response. Ellana isn't sure how well a Tevinter mage will treat Dalish mage. She's willing to make it work if he is.

"Herald!" Dorian greets pleasantly, if not sounding a little surprised. "How... unexpected."

"It's just Lana," she tells him, with the warmest smile she can manage. "I was just coming to see you because..." she trails off accidentally. She hadn't planned as far as making an excuse.

"I know," Dorian says wryly. "No one wants to be near the 'Stinking Vint'."

"That's not fair," Ellana argues. "I think you smell nice. Like... cinnamon?"

"It's sandalwood," he says. "But the effort was appreciated."

He invites her in and offers her wine. She politely refuses, and Dorian tells her a humorous anecdote about there being a rumour that Tevinter wine is made of the 'tears of slaves.' Thinking about it, it isn't really funny, because slavery is awful and Ellana hates it so much. Hates that her people are kept under the feet of humans, even after all these years. Never once does she say this. Instead, she chuckles in appropriate places which is the most sensible thing to do. Baby steps.

"So, you're Dalish?" Dorian asks interestedly, eyeing her with slightly narrowed eyes.

"Was it the ears that gave it away?" she asks dryly.

He laughs, sounding more like a bark. "I must say, I was surprised when I found the Herald Of Andraste was a Dalish elf. I thought the Chantry would've forbade it."

"They do," Ellana shrugs. "But they don't have a choice. I was chosen by their Andraste. They can't exactly argue, can they?"

Dorian smiles sharply, looking rather sly. "You're very blasé about it, aren't you?"

"It doesn't bother me because I'm not like them," she says, picking the bloodied cuticle on the corner of her thumb. "I couldn't care less about those Chantry-bashers and their opinion of me."

Dorian tips his goblet towards her. "I think we're going to get along just grand, Ellana Lavellan."

Thus sealing their friendship.

***


	4. The Mire

It's hard to believe you're destined for greatness when you're covered in the filth and muck of the Fallowmire, huddling in a cave whilst roasting a large rat over the fire.

The cold seeps into Ellana's bones as she sits shuddering beneath the thin, raggedy blanket Cassandra gave her. She is curled beneath it with the warrior, who looks at the rat with grim determination. Ellana wants to tell her that whatever she does, it won't taste good. But she doesn't want to drag the mood down even further.

"I bet you never expected this when you signed up, Boss," Bull jokes. He's resting casually against the slimy wall, seemingly unbothered by it all. Ellana doesn't want to think about the conditions the Qunari are used to.

"No," the elf agrees weakly. "I didn't."

"Don't worry, Smiles," Varric says. "It won't always be like this. We might even start **_enjoying_** ourselves at some point." Ellana musters a smile at the affectionate nickname the dwarf gave her due to her ebullient personality; though she's not really living up to it at the moment. This trip has been a perpetual dampener on her spirits.

She leans forward and starts to fiddle with the flames, summoning her magic to make them rise slightly higher.

"If you burn that bloody rat," Dorian says darkly, under sagging eyes.

"I bet you're not used to this, Pretty Boy," Bull says gleefully. "I bet it's the first time in your life you've roughed it. Or pulled your weight."

"I'll have you know I've ' ** _roughed it_** ' plenty of times. With plenty of people," Dorian says sharply. Bull's marred eyebrows raise about an inch up his forehead. "What do you think I did in Tevinter all day? Lazed around on a chaise whilst servants fed me grapes?"

"Yes," Ellana and Bull echo.

Dorian lets out a frustrated groan at their simulacrum of him. "Impossible," he mutters darkly. "Absolutely- **_ugh_**!"

***

It's rotten business fighting the swamp corpses. Knee deep in murky water, Ellana can't think of anything worse at this point. But there's always time for things to go wrong. How could she ever think there could not?

Clammy hands scrabble at her legs under the water, catching her off balance and dragging her into the depths. She opens her mouth involuntarily to scream, only to be greeted with a mouth full of nebulous water and moss. A group of corpses are what's dragging her down. Their papery skin tears off easily as Ellana fights them away. Soon, her vision is swimming with sinews and water weeds. Her head feels heavy, and the ability to tussle is becoming so weak...

She's yanked roughly above the surface, gasping excessively and choking. Once dragged onto the bank, she retches the meagre contents of tubers and rat meat up all down her robes. Dorian tuts, shrugging his own robes off and draping them over her shoulder. Bull reaches a massive arm into the depths again and retrieves her staff, which is thankfully less worse for wear.

"It's that stinking rat we ate," Varric says through pursed lips. "I wouldn't be surprised if we all fall ill from it."

Cassandra grinds her teeth furiously- **_dangerously_**. "Do not tell me you are used to the finer things in life, dwarf," she says harshly, words stabbing like knives. "You deserve nothing more than rat."

It's quiet after that. Tense. Ellana is almost relieved when they start fighting again because it makes them forget rigidity the atmosphere.

The Avvar are unassailable at first. That is until Ellana starts **_really_** putting her back into it, opting for more damaging spells that drain her mana- rather than an assault of feebler ones. She summons a fire storm, a blizzard and any other Creation spells she has the energy to cast. Eventually, the Avvar leader falls. Her party are no worse for wear really, apart from black eyes and Ellana's mild concussion from being thrown across the room ( ** _again_** ) and Cassandra's bloody nose. Both women are too determined to find the inquisition soldiers to focus on their injuries.

Bull niftily loots the Avvar, throwing Ellana a bag of gold casually. She stares at it confused for a moment, before tossing it back. "You need it more than I do," she shrugs. "I don't have ale to buy. Make sure your first round is on me." Bull chuckles, saluting her. Perhaps she has misjudged the Qunari. He's odd, yet fairly sweet in his own way- past all the rugged savageness. Whatever she may think, she's just relieved he's on **_her_** side.

***

Haven welcomes her accordingly. This is the longest she's been away from the village, and her friends are eager to find out what happened. When her party come back in tow with a tribe of Avvar, they're even more intrigued.

Ellana looks forward to sleeping and bathing, however she must attend a meeting first with her advisors. "Duty calls," she shrugs apologetically to Blackwall as he drills her with questions.

Her advisors congratulate her on the success in the Fallowmire and uniting the Avvar with the inquisition. It is Cullen who especially praises her. She can't stop herself blushing because, after all, she **_is_** only human (metaphorically speaking, that is.)

Before she leaves the war room, Cullen calls her back. He looks hesitant. "Herald," he says awkwardly. "You... have some pond weed in your hair."

"Oh," Ellana smiles, carding a hand through her still damp hair. "Thanks, Commander."

"Anytime," he nods, clearing his throat, cheeks slightly more pinker than before he mentioned it. Once the Herald leaves, Leliana raises her eyebrows to Josephine, who stifles a giggle behind her palm. "What?" the commander asks irritably.

"Nothing," Josephine smiles, her voice lilted with amusement. "Leliana, you owe me three sovereigns."  

***


	5. The Guardian

Vivienne watches her. Sees her blossom out of the shell she had grown when she first arrived at Haven. It's only been a few weeks since the Enchanter had arrived, but even in this short time, Ellana's change has been incredible. Her _growth_. She's shaping up to be a real leader. Something Vivienne thought she'd never see in the timid Dalish mage. She's seen mages like that in the Circle, who always cowered in the shadows. And despite popular belief, they never did achieve great things, like the tales and fables told them they would. They held themselves back deliberately, afraid of the Unknown. But Ellana has dived headfirst into it, kept her head above water and is swimming.

The Enchanter is proud. At first, she was unsure if it was possible to be proud of a girl she didn't even know, but the answer is apparent now. When Vivienne sees her shoving around Templars who mistreat the mages, or when she stands on the steps of Haven and commands the soldiers- Vivienne is _proud_. Her chest swells ever so slightly as she watches the girl flourish in her environment. Whether Ellana believes it or not, she was destined for this. Vivienne is a devout women, and wholly believe that Andraste has chosen Ellana.

"You're doing wonderful, dear," Vivienne tells her over breakfast one morning. It's just the two of them today. They've both risen early. Unintentionally, of course. "I'll admit, at first I was skeptic as to whether you could manage this. You have proved me wrong. And to which I apologise," Vivienne admits graciously.

"Did you not believe in me because I was Dalish?" Ellana asks cautiously. She swallows her coarse bread roll and feels it stick in a nervous lump in her throat.

Vivienne sips her tea delicately (if you can even call this filth tea. It's just water with boiled bark in it. Disgusting. Her ancestors would turn in their graves) "That was certainly a reason," the Enchanter admits. "I have seen a lot of Dalish mages- girls especially- shy away from their abilities because they were terrified of the outcome. Scared that they'll be blown out of the water by men. By humans. You were like that at first. I saw you cower away from Cullen, from Blackwall. You, like all others before you, feel comfortable in the hands of your people- like that dreaded apostate hobo." Vivienne sniffs, deeply disapproving. "But it is of your nature. This, however, leading a movement of this size- is not. You've put your ancestors to shame, my dear. You've created history."

Ellana, albeit deeply moved by Vivienne's faith in her, has more than one niggling thought about her speech. "What about the Hero of Ferelden?" she presses. "He was Dalish too. He created a movement before I did."

"She fought an Archdemon with the help of her misfit friends," Vivienne corrects her. "That is not a movement."

Ellana uncomfortably shifts in her seat. She doesn't want to aggravate Vivienne on purpose. The Enchanter has shown her great kindness, and tucked her under her wing. It's more than Ellana could've asked for when she first joined the inquisition.

"I'm not saying this to demean your people," assures Vivienne. "They've come along leaps and bounds. Because of you."

Ellana doesn't believe it. She isn't solely responsible for the elves. She has not changed Thedas' opinion on them just because she's the Herald of Andraste. If anything, she's heightened their disapproval. Especially by the Chantry. Vivienne misunderstands. Ellana has done nothing. She isn't suddenly a figure of hope, she isn't some Dalish god. She's Ellana Lavellan, who was thrown into this chaos unwillingly and begrudgingly. She's making the best of a bad situation. She isn't trying to be a good leader. Ellana is muddling along, making mistakes and being picked up by her advisors. Why can't anyone see this?

"You're about the only person who has faith in me," Ellana says, a little sharply.

"Nonsense," Vivienne says brusquely. "People will lose faith in you if you don't believe in yourself. If you don't see yourself as a leader, how do you expect others to? You have a wonderful arrangement here. It would be such a waste to see it perish."

By now, the mess hall has begun to fill out. The din of chairs scraping and rowdy soldiers makes it difficult to converse properly. Vivienne sighs, watching the rabble with raised eyebrows.

"I'm not sure how you'll shape these termites into an army," she says, ever so slightly humorous. "Ah well, we shall see. I trust they're in good hands with you." She stands up gracefully. Ellana is about to tell her that _Cullen_ is actually in charge of the soldiers, but Vivienne has already swept away.

***


	6. The Fade

Ellana has never grown out of her habit of visiting the Fade. She doesn't do it most nights, but there are times when the Veil calls her so strongly there's nothing she can do resist. It's like a call of nature- like a dragon being pulled towards ruins, darkspawn being called to the Deep Roads- it's impossible to fight.

Tonight, the Fade takes her to the Hinterlands. At first, it's strange. What's the appeal of the Hinterlands? Ellana finds it rather boring. However, she looks properly and sees she's stood outside the ruins her and Solas investigated a while back. She's surprised. When they'd visited, she hadn't actually paid much attention. It was Solas' business, not hers.

The elf think she's alone until she hears footsteps on the nearly-there grassy surface of the Fade. She turns quickly, on high alert. Someone is intruding her dreams. How dare they?

"I did not mean to scare you," Solas says calmly. "I was too intrigued not to see you. I had no idea you were so invested in the Fade?"

Ellana chokes slightly, swallowing back the anger she'd felt only seconds ago. "I-I- yes, sometimes."

"It's truly fascinating, is it not?" he looks at her, thoughtful eyes bright in the light of the runes glowing off the walls. Ellana isn't sure whether her mind has conjured Solas, or if he's actually trespassing. She doesn't have the heart to ask, and ruin this moment she never wants to end.

"I've loved it ever since I was a child," Ellana admits. _I had a friend too_ , her brain adds. "I've learned a lot from it. From... spirits," she says carefully. Solas looks at her knowingly, eyebrows inclined slightly.

"You have experienced demons?"

"No!" she blurts, not wanting to sound completely idiotic. "They weren't demons, I don't think. They tried to help. They told me about blood magic, and the Veil. Some tried to get me to help them in return, but they were spirits." She licks her dried lips. "One spirit tried to get me to go on a crusade against Templars. I rejected, obviously."

"I don't think our commander would appreciate you slaughtering his small ranks," Solas says with a smile. "He equally didn't seem pleased about you siding with the mages."

"I don't know what he expected me to do!" Ellana exclaims. "I'm a _mage_! Why on earth would I side with the men whose job it is to hunt me down and capture me?"

"Perhaps he hoped for some peaceful arrangement?" Solas suggests. He rocks patiently on his heels. "It might've been the first step in ending the ongoing battle."

Ellana looks at him witheringly. "Do you honestly expect anything to change after this?"

"Perhaps," he says lightly. "I was just trying to think of Cullen's reasoning. Other than him wanting his old men back."

"If he wanted his stupid Templars he should've stayed in Kirkwall," Ellana grumbles, kicking a stray stone. It bounces off the stone wall, emitting a loud echo. She then feels a hook-like tug in her chest. Guilt. Ellana likes Cullen. He's got a lot of reasons to hate and mistrust her, for being a mage, yet he helps her through everything. Speaking ill of him is wrong, and she knows it. Sometimes she cannot help herself. Spending hours cramped in the war room with her advisors often puts a lot of strain on their relationships. The only one Ellana can really bare to see outside of the room is Josephine, who's saccharine attitude is hard to hate.

"Cullen is a good man," Solas observes, and Ellana hates that he's right, even though she admitted the same thing to herself only moments ago. "Do not harbour ill feelings for him. He is trying."

 _That's the main thing_ , Ellana concedes. Silently. She lifts a hand up to trace a rune, letting the stone snag the soft pad of her thumb. It doesn't necessarily hurt, it just isn't pleasant.

"I never looked properly when we were here," she tells the apostate casually. "I wish I had."

"There are more spectacular ruins," Solas tells her, and his smile holds something behind it that Ellana just can't decipher. "Perhaps one night I shall take you there."

"In the Fade?" Ellana asks, words catching in her throat as she tries not to get her hopes up. Solas nods. "How will I know where to go?"

"I will direct you," he tells her simply. "Though tonight, I think we have had our fill."

 _No_! Ellana shouts in her mind. _Get back here_!

"Yes," she agrees weakly, letting out a faux yawn. "Goodnight Solas."

"Goodnight Lana," he says pleasantly. Once he leaves her dream, Ellana is transported to the Fade version of her clan's camp. His visit holds significance. Ellana won't figure it out though.

***


	7. The Attack

Ellana is stood on the steps of Haven with Cassandra when the news comes to them. Cullen runs past, stopping dead when he sees them and shouts over the din. "Forces approaching!" He rushes away, following the steady stream of soldiers who are also running down the paths of Haven.

The mage turns to Cassandra in a panic. "What do we do?" she asks desperately. Surely the Seeker is ready for this type of protocol.

"We must get to gates," Cassandra instructs, drawing out her sword. Ellana reaches for her staff, holding it tightly in her left hand as she follows Cassandra. She sprints down to the gates, feeling no sense of security. Suddenly, Haven appears very small and weak, unable to withstand attack.

"Cullen?" Cassandra asks desperately.

"One watch guard reported a massive force, the bulk over the mountain," the commander grimly points to the mountain overlooking the village.

"Under what banner?" inquires Josephine.

"None," Cullen answers simply.

"None?" the ambassador repeats, clarifying she'd heard him right. Whilst they've been talking, Ellana has been watching the explosions rattling Haven's gate. Her eyebrows draw together when she hears a muffled voice shout through the wood.

"I can't come in unless you open!" it cries desperately. Ellana hurries forward as Cullen warns her to be careful with a shout. She yanks open the gates to see a Templar striding forward. Her heart beats in her throat as she begins to try heave the gates shut. I've been had, she thinks furiously.

Just before Ellana can close the gates, she sees a dagger piercing through the Templar's chest. The soldier crumples, turning the snow a deadly rose colour as he bleeds out. When his body falls, a boy is revealed. His face is obscures by a large hat. He has a pale, babyish face. Straw-like hair falls in his lifeless eyes.

Cole comes to warn them about the Templar's attack. The red Templars went to the Elder One- who on earth is the Elder one?

"You took his mages," Cole says hauntingly, pointing a finger to the top of the mountain. What's perched on the crest is something like Ellana has never seen in her life. It's not human, not even close. It's face is twisted and corrupt, lips twisted in a snarl. It stands skeletal, skin clutching to its bones desperately. Red lyrium blooms out of its head and torso. It's stare is cold and destructive, and aimed straight at Haven.

" _He's very angry that you took his mages_."

Panic sets in then. Ellana turns to Cullen, trying to push away her fear and be the leader that Vivienne believes she is. It's now or never.

"We'll protect the front of Haven with the mages," she says. "Get my circle down here. You stay in the village and help. Now!" she barks, slightly startling herself with the conviction of her words. Cullen nods, telling the mages they have sanction to fight for their lives. They all crowd forward, allowing Ellana to strategically place them around the trebuchets, and sending some to the West trebuchet. By now, Ellana's party have joined the fray- armed and armoured.

"Varric, Solas, Bull, Blackwall- I need you with me. Sera, Dorian, Cassandra, Vivienne- go to the West trebuchet. There's mages waiting for you there. Try not to get yourselves hurt."

Her companions nod seriously, positioning themselves in their assigned places. Bull moves forward, being a warrior he has to be on the front line. Varric lags behind slightly, caught in the middle of the midst of mages. Solas and Ellana lag behind slightly. Not out of fear, but out of strategy.

"For what it matters, I hope you don't get killed," Ellana tells him seriously.

It's surprising when Solas chuckles. "And I hope you don't get killed either."

 

***


	8. The Blizzard

Ellana prises her eyes open cautiously, wincing slightly as light hits her sensitive pupils. Immediately, she lifts her hand to check it's still there. Yes, and so is the Anchor. That's one less worry. At least the Elder One didn't come out victorious.

She tries to remember everything that happened. It comes to her in fractions- like a confusing kaleidoscope obscuring her thoughts. Chancellor Roderick had told her about the path out of Haven, she'd sacrificed herself to the Archdemon- but ended up facing Corypheus for the first time (it was as terrifying as she'd expected it to be). She remembers kicking the trebuchet and causing an avalanche with the most clarity. And that was how she ended up here, after catching her foot in a wooden slat and falling to what she'd presumed was her death.

Everything is in order. She's broken no limbs, nor her staff, and she's well enough to move forward. Which she does. She strides through the cave, ducking out of the way of the dangerous stalactite. It would be a shame to survive Corypheus, but die from being impaled by _ice_.

Whilst she searches for an exit, Ellana encounters two Despaie demons. As soon as she enters the cave they're in, an immediate cold dread washes over her, leaving her shuddering. Creators, if there's anything she hates- it's despair demons. Even their names turn her stomach.

It looks rather dire for a short while. Ellana doesn't have enough mans to fight the powerful demons off herself. These are more powerful than Terror demons, which always give Ellana a hard time.

In desperation, Ellana throws her left arm forward in hope of the Anchor protecting her. And it does. Instead of swallowing a Rift, it creates one. For a moment, all the elf can do is stare dumbstruck as she watches the rift grow in size. It feels like a lengthy process, but in reality only takes a few seconds. The Despair demons are sucked into the Rift, screeching indignantly as their hands scrabble to open it back up. It disappears with a pop, which is what alerts Ellana back to focus.

So not only can she eradicate portals to the Fade, she can also create them. Ellana is beginning to understand why Corypheus was so intent on taking the Anchor. It possesses an immense amount of power, potentially apocalyptic power. It's lucky that a morally righteous person like Ellana is in control of it.

She closes her Anchor hand, now feeling no pain, as opposed to the blinding burn she felt when Corypheus was draining it. This, she decides, is a good thing. An improvement. She's determined not to let herself think negatively about it, even though that train of thought is probably more reasonable.

Ellana begins to jog, following a straight path down the cave. Thankfully, she doesn't encounter any forks or diversions, so the journey is pretty straightforward.

Her body is immediately shocked when she teeters on the edge of an unsteady wooden platform, high above the non-visible ground. She scrambles backwards, trying not to slip on the black ice that's spread across the wooden panels.

All she can see is snow and nothingness. This much snow indicates she's somewhere in the Frostbacks. This is good, it means she's not far away from Haven. Ellana is unsure whether it's worth turning to back to the village. It's only a few miles way at least. Have the people been evacuated like planned? If so, then where are they? Her disorientation is becoming overwhelming.

Deciding there's no other way than forward, Ellana cautiously takes the slippery wooden steps. It's a relief when she sinks knee-deep in snow. She squints and shields her eyes from the blizzard, throwing an arm across her forehead. The wind is harsh, making the snow feel sharp against her skin- _burning_ her.

As she walks, she thinks about what's been left behind at Haven. When she'd left, things were looking pretty dire. Half of the village had been burned down. Creators knows what happened when the Archdemon began its assault and more Templars flooded in. Ellana doesn't want to think about it. She can't bear the thought of Haven being burned to ash- _or_   _her friends ashes_.

The blizzard is a relief. It keeps Ellana's mind of the sickening image of the burning village. Instead, Ellana focuses on manoeuvring her legs through the snow that practically reaches her thighs. The journey seems to be taking a life time. In reality, Ellana doesn't know how much times she's lost. It could be days, it could be hours- how is she supposed to know?

Through the darkness, Ellana can make out a vague apparition. It's Solas, leaning against his staff and smiling down fondly at her. The apparition is silent, confusing her as it mouths something at her. Ellana reaches out with blue fingertips to touch the vapour, but it dissolves into fragile wisps. He's just a figment of her exhausted and stunted brain. She's been through enough trauma for her mind not to work properly, to make the world around her unclear and uneasy. Added on top of tiredness, Ellana is delirious and bleary, unable to go on much further.

A wolf howls in the distance, it will never find her through the snowstorm. Ellana can only think one thing when she hears it's clarion call. _Fen'Harel_? After all these years...

The land begins to tilt downwards on a slope. As she descends the mountainside, she sees it. At first, she thinks it's her mind continuing to play cruel ticks on her. Something imaginary. A small fire blazing in the distance, not much bigger than a pinhead. This becomes Ellana's destination. If there's a fire still lit, that means someone was there recently. Perhaps she can catch up with them. She's so determined, she doesn't hear anyone shouting her name.

"There! It's Ellana!"

Ellana looks up, blinking the snowflakes out of her eyelashes. The voice- it's familiar. Who, though? She doesn't want to let herself believe she's found the people from Haven.

"Thank the Maker!" a voice cries, with a hint of fear. Ellana mouthes the name of the Seeker.

Now, Ellana sees them very clearly. Her advisors. Cullen reaches her first. He hasn't laid a hand on her before she falls to her knees in the snow drift, unable to speak. A wave of fatigue hit her harder than the avalanche at Haven.

She goes limp as a strong pair of arms scoop her out the snow. She'll never know whether it was Cullen or Cassandra. Someone shouts, but she never properly hears it as the universe falls into eternal darkness.

***


	9. The Place Where The Sky Is Held

The world is muffled when she finally wakes. A deer hide blanket has been draped over her, she's managed to burrow down halfway it. Beneath her, she feels the hardness of a wooden board. She shifts uncomfortably. For now, she's unsure of where she is. All she knows is that someone carried her off. Hopefully, they'd find a safe hold away from Corypheus' reach.

Ellana throws the hide back, and is greeted by darkness again. The rough canvas of a tent hangs overhead, stretching out for as far as she can see- seemingly replacing the sky.

She sits up steadily. Her head feels like it's been hit repeatedly by a war hammer, other than that she feels fit enough. She splays her hands beside her, shoulders sagging down tiredly. Has she even slept, or has she just been knocked out? It's strange waking up from being blacked out. In theory, Ellana should feel revitalised. The reality is very different.

Shouting echoes from outside of the tent. Ellana leans forward to see what the commotion is. Her advisors stand a short distance away, all stood tightly in a circle. Ellana can practically see the thick tension between them. Even from here, Ellana can see Cullen's tersely furious expression. Leiliana's is hidden behind her cowl, but Ellana can imagine how frustrated she is. Her temper can be as flaming as her hair.

"What would you have me tell them?" Cullen's frustrated rumble travels through the canvas. "This isn't what we asked them to do." Ellana winces at his tone, lifting a shaky hand to tenderly touch her temples.

"We cannot simply ignore this! We must find a way," Cassandra retaliates.

"And who put you in charge?" Cullen asks rudely. "We need a consensus or we have nothing!"

"Please, we must use reason," Josephine begs. Always the voice of reason. "Without the infrastructure of the inquisition, we're hobbled!"

"It can't come from nowhere!"

"She didn't say it could," Leiliana argues.

"Enough!" Cassandra shouts with so much conviction Ellana reckons the Frostbacks must be trembling. "This is getting us nowhere!"

"Well we're agreed on that much," Cullen snaps.

Ellana lets out a small sigh, hanging her head slightly as she listens to the bickering.

"Shh," Mother Giselle says gently from beside her. The Herald jumps inches in the air, wondering how long she'd been there watching over her. "You need rest."

"They've been at it for hours, haven't they?"

"They have that luxury thanks to you," Giselle says, clasping her hands together on her lap. "The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt, we turn to blame. Infighting may threaten as much as Corypheus."

"Do we know where Corypheus is?" Ellana asks tiredly.

"We are not sure where _we_ are," Mother Giselle answers, her face falling slightly. "Which may be despite the numbers, he still commands. There is no sign of him. That, or you are believed dead. Without Haven, we are thought helpless. Or he girds for another attack. I cannot claim to know the mind of that creature, only his affect on us."

Ellana looks up at the kind face of the Mother. The deep lines etched upon her face are carved from worry and burden. Her face resembles leather, Ellana notices.

"If they're arguing about what happens next, I need to be there," the elf says determinedly.

"Another heated voice won't help," Giselle says sadly. "Even yours. Perhaps especially yours. Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defenders stand... and fall. And now we have seen her return. The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trials seem ordained. That is hard to accept, no? What we have been called to endure, what we perhaps, must come to believe."

"I escaped the avalanche," she starts, her voice small. "Barely, perhaps, but I didn't die."

"Of course, and the dead cannot return from across the Veil. But the people know what they saw, or perhaps what they _needed_ to see. The Maker both works in the moment, and how it is remembered. Can we truly know the heavens are not with us?" Giselle asks rhetorically.

"Even if I was meant for this," Ellana's voice breaks slightly. "They didn't help at Haven, nor didn't help us now." She pushes herself off the bed, as it creaks in protest. Looking around, each face bore similar expressions of grief and defeat. All this, and for what? To hurt the ones who had wrongfully put her faith in her? Is Ellana really warranted to call herself the Herald, when she has lost faith herself?

Mother Giselle joins her in standing, opening her mouth in what Ellana presumes is to speak, but instead she lets out a gentle alto. Words to a song Ellana has never heard, or if she has, it was long ago. Her melancholy melody catches people's attention as they raise themselves up, joining in too.

Nearly everyone in the camp has joined in now, and the voice that stands out the most was Leiliana's- as clear and haunting as, well, a _nightingale_.

Cullen starts too, his voice throaty and slightly scratchy. Some words get caught in his throat. All Ellana can do is stare. Were they singing for her? Singing for themselves? Or singing for a higher power, calling upon them for help?

"Corypheus _will_ care," Giselle whispers to Ellana once the song has been carried by enough people to keep it continued. "The best answer to powerful lies are certain truths."

A gentle hand rests on Ellana's elbow, causing her to whip round to see Solas smiling at her, just like he had been in the blizzard. The similarity sends a small shiver down Ellana's spine. She resists the urge to hug him, because she is so relieved he's alive.

"A word?" he asks gently. Ellana nods, following the apostate to the edge of the camp which is lighted by a single torch which Solas has set aflame with a mage light. Here, it's eerily quiet compared to the cheers and faithful outcries of the people in camp.

"The humans have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting," Solas comments. "The faith is hard-won, Lethallin. Worthy of pride... save one detail." Ellana stands beside to him, absorbing the warmth of the torch. "The threat Corypheus wields? The orb he carried? It is ours. Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. We must find out how he survived... and we must prepare for their reaction. When they learn the orb is of our people."

"All right," Ellana nods, her eyebrows knitting together in a frown. "What is it, and how do you know about it?"

"Such things were foci, said to channel power from our gods. Some were dedicated to specific members of our pantheon. All that remains is references in ruins, and faint visions of memory in the Fade, echoes of a dead empire. But however Corypheus came to it, the orb _is_ Elven. And with it, he threatens the heart of human faith."

"Even if we defeat Corypheus, eventually they'll find a way to blame elves," Ellana points out.

"I suspect you are correct. It is unfortunate, but we must be above suspicion to be seen as valued allies. Faith in you is shaping this moment, but it needs room to grow."

"So what do you suggest?" Ellana asks, turning her head to study him. His face is bathed in the glow of the soft mage light, and at this angle, there is something behind his eyes Ellana can't quite explain.

"By attacking the inquisition, Corypheus has changed it. Changed _you_. Scout to the North, be their guide. There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. There is a place where the inquisition can build... grow. _Skyhold_."

***


	10. The Inquisitor

Repairs are already underway in Skyhold. It's only been a few days since the forces had arrived, but it's already starting to shape up. At first, Ellana had had no hope of repairing the strong hold. It was so dilapidated and ruined that it seemed unsalvageable. Ellana had become quite shrill when she'd seen the inside of the Keep, declaring it a wasted journey and that the inquisition should just turn around and _leave_.

For the first time in her life, Ellana is glad about being proved wrong.

With Cassandra in charge, it's impossible for the agents to not work at cleaning the place up. None of them dare disobey the Seeker, many having been on the receiving end of one of her lectures- an experience none of them wanted to relive. Cassandra seems to know the effect she has on the agents, and walks around the Keep looking smug as she barks orders. Ellana's just glad it isn't _her_ that's copping it.

It doesn't take long for the inquisition to fit into the fortress and get into the swing of things. Ellana's advisors don't seem to let her have a break. On the first day, she's summoned at dawn for a war council meeting that lasts until past noon.

Whenever Ellana does have free time, she uses it to explore Skyhold. There's a lot of hidden rooms and nooks she is yet to discover. She scours the fortress with the help of Cole. Since their pilgrimage, the elf and spirit have become friends. On the journey, they formed a trio with Solas. The three of them would talk about the Fade, exchanging stories and snippets of knowledge. Solas, of course, left them staggered with how much he knew about the Veil. It made Ellana feel infinitesimal. She told herself that Solas only knew more about it because he was older. Ellana was only just approaching her twentieth nameday.

Ellana's circle have settled in well. Dorian and Solas situate the rotunda. Solas has an office on the ground floor whereas Dorian occupies the library alcove on the second floor. Leiliana's rook is on the highest floor, somewhere Ellana doesn't particularly like to venture to because there's so many _stairs_. The ravens are also slightly unnerving- their eyes a harsh shade of amber, unblinking and intrusive.

On the morning of the sevenday of their arrival, Ellana is sat in Dorian's library flicking through a dusty volume with him. She sits on his chair arm, pointing out things of interest whilst he makes comments about them- usually paired with an eyeroll, or sarcastic tone. Ellana has become accustomed to his brassy attitude.

"Herald?" a messenger clears their throat. Both the mages look up, their expressions slightly irritated. Ellana told her advisors that she wanted this day for herself, why can't they respect her wish? Is it too much to ask? 

"Lady Cassandra has asked you to meet her in the courtyard." Ellana nods with a sigh, waiting for the messenger to exit before hauling herself out of her comfortable spot. She presumes the Seeker will want to discuss training. Ellana asked Cassandra to teach her how to use a sword. At first, she was surprised but agreed. It was useful for Ellana to know how to wield more than one weapon. She already had brief knowledge on how to use daggers. A few recruits in Haven had helped her learn.

Ellana pads down to the courtyard, saying hello to Solas as she passes his office. She tries not to let herself blush. She's sure Cole has noticed anyway.

Outside, Cassandra is waiting at the bottom of the steps for her. She looks apprehensive, to which Ellana responds with being immediately guarded. Has something gone wrong? Ellana looks around to see a few people being shepherded in off the draw bridge. They're dressed in tattered rags, looking absolutely exhausted. It's impossible to tell where they've travelled from.

"They arrive daily from every settlement in the region," Cassandra begins. "Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage."

"That's a good thing, right?" Ellana asks attentively, as Cassandra motions her to start walking.

"If word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One." They start to climb the steps. "We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here. But this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated."

The two women stop once they've reached the top. "We now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus. What drew him to you."

"He came after me because my efforts put the inquisition in his way," Ellana replies with a simple shrug.

"Perhaps in more ways than you've considered," the Seeker agrees. They walk again. "Your decisions let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven. You are the creatures rival because of what you did. And we know it. All of us."

Ellana lags behind Cassandra as they mount the steps up the Keep. Her eyes widen when she finally looks up to see Leliana presenting her with a longsword, with the most ornately elegant handle Ellana has ever laid her eyes upon.

"The inquisition needs a leader," Cassandra tells her. "The one who has already been leading it. You." Ellana reaches out a hesitant hand to touch the sword, but withdraws it quickly. Leliana tries to hide her puzzlement, still holding the weapon out to her with unwavering strength. _It must weigh a lot_ , is all Ellana can think. Perhaps it's the heaviness of Cassandra's proposition that's making her brain a muddle.

Below them, a huge crowd has gathered in the courtyard, watching her every move. Hundreds of eyes fall upon Ellana, making her skin burn and itch in a painful manner. Nervous tears prick her eyes. Her every movement is being scrutinised, there's far too many people- she becomes a flurry of panic. It takes all her resolve to stay rooted to the ground instead of fleeing to her quarters.

"You're offering this to an elf?" Ellana chokes. "Are you quite sure you know what you're doing?"

"I would be terrified handing this power to anyone," Cassandra says simply. "But I believe it is the only way. They'll follow you. To them, being an elf shows how far you've risen. How it must have been by Andraste's hand. What it means to you, and how you lead us- that is for you alone to determine."

Ellana finally takes the sword. It's foreign and heavy in her hand, dragging her left side down slightly. She stares at it helplessly for a few seconds. Her senses are hyper-aware that everyone is awaiting her noble reaction. But she isn't noble- she's a Dalish _apostate_  for Creators sake!

Unsure of what to do now, she swallows hard, wondering what her advisors would want her to say .

"With fear running rampant, they need to see a mage standing for what is right. I'll defeat Corypheus standing _with_ them, not over them," she says.

"Wherever you should lead us," Cassandra says. She then turns to look over at Cullen and Josephine on the ground. "Have our people been told?" she shouts.

"They have," Josephine says. "And soon, the world."

"Commander, will they follow?"

"Inquisition, will you follow?" Cullen asks. The people roar approvingly. "Will you fight? Will we triumph?" He stops to draw our his sword. "Your leader, your Herald; your inquisitor!" Ellana raises her sword to justify his point.

Clearly this was exactly what the people need to see. Because as soon as Cullen says this, the courtyard swells with rounds of applause and whistles, some people even shouting her name in an approving chant. At the moment in time, it didn't seem to matter that Ellana is an elf mage stood in front of a sea of humans. The inquisition is now one, a collective, instead of individuals. Does it really matter about her race? Evidently not.

The longer she stands there, the more at ease she feels. She even manages to crack a small smile as she catch Solas' eye, who gives her a half-smile.

She's going to manage just fine.

***


	11. The Favour

The euphoria of becoming inquisitor soon wears off. Ellana is run ragged in the war room. Their meetings usually last six hours or more. By the time Ellana leaves, she's exhausted, and ready to rip the nearest person's head off. This is why she spends at least an hour in her quarters before going down to see her companions, in fear of being hostile with them. Some days it's harder to calm down. Cole is the most sympathetic. If Ellana needs release, she'll let Cole's calm voice soothe her. Sometimes she'll sit with the both him and Solas and talk idly to them until she starts to feel calm. Solas understands her frustrations and sympathises. Dorian does too, to some degree. Other times he will drop a comment or two along the lines of 'isn't this what you wanted?' or 'you should've thought about it before you agreed to it.' It takes a lot of willpower not to throttle him most days.

One morning between breakfast and a war meeting, Ellana takes a few minutes to herself in the rotunda. Solas isn't present yet, so she'll wait a while until he is. She leans the bottom half of her body on his desk, looking behind her at the sheafs of paper cluttering the surface of it. Ellana tries her hardest not to disrupt the order he has them in, but she doesn't think he will be annoyed with her curiosity. In fact, he seems to enjoy when she probes him with questions.

Towards the bottom of the pile is a small, leather-bound book. Ellana's fingertips brushes over the smooth, cool material, and recoils straightaway. This is Solas', almost certainly private. Her inquisitiveness will not breach his privacy. She chews her lip. But it's so tempting.

Before her brain can react accordingly, her hand reaches out with lighting speed to pick it up. To her horror, a number of loose pages flutter to the floor. She gasps and curses furiously, bending down and trying to gather them with the same speed as to which she upheaved them.

"Uh-oh," a smug voice comes from above. Ellana's head snaps up, glaring as she sees Dorian grinning down at her. "Somebody's in trouble."

"Not if you don't mention it," Ellana says threateningly, standing up straight and cramming the pages in. Yes, that looks adequate. Judging by Dorian's snort, it isn't.

"You might as well have 'intrusive' tattooed on your forehead," Dorian remarks pitifully.

"I bet you wouldn't come down here and say that to my face, Pavus."

"I would," the Tevinter exaggerates a yawn and stretches. "However, today I'm too tired." He disappears back into his alcove, leaving Ellana truly desperate. Her hands are wrapped tightly around the book. All she needs to do now is slide it back in the pile and...

"Lana?" Solas asks from right behind her.

She shrieks in shock, throwing her hands up in the air, and in turn- the pages flutter down to the ground again. She daren't turn around now. She's certain Solas will be annoyed with her. The last thing she needs is the apostate giving her a lecture. She's seen him give Sera one, and it was so uncomfortable it made Ellana squirm and retreat to her tent to avoid listening to it.

"Solas," Ellana begins sincerely, eyes widening for effect. This is only partly deliberate. Dorian has already told her the wonders her puppy eyes do. "I'm so sorry," she apologises. "I didn't mean to invade your privacy, honestly-"

"Lana it's fine," Solas says, bending down to pick it up himself. He's even smiling a little. "If I were so concerned about keeping it private, it would be safely locked in my quarters, would it not?" Ellana looks away awkwardly. He has a point. "They are just my sketches. Feel free to look at them. Your feedback would be greatly appreciated."

Ellana is half certain this is some kind of trick, but takes the sketchbook with slightly trembling hands. The first five pages are empty, which strikes her as mildly odd. The first sketch is a flower- Andraste's Grace, perhaps? Ellana is unsure. It's wholly detailed, right down to the individual strokes of shading. Solas must've put so much effort into this. She almost feels unworthy of looking at it anymore.

The drawings are more sporadic the further through the book Ellana looks. Clearly, Solas lacked inspiration at this moment in time. All there is is a drawing of a wolf, and on the next page; the back view of a child elf, a fireball blooming from her palm, long hair tumbling down her tunic. Ellana smiles, stroking her finger on it. This is her favourite of all she's seen. The thought of Solas studying a child with a smile on his face, giving gentle encouragements between sketching makes her heart feel light with joy. He is a good man.

What she sees on the last page, makes her heart feel even lighter- practically evaporating. It's her. But he's drawn her in the most angelic light, capturing every shadow and feature perfectly on her face. This moment was from one night at camp, Ellana remembers it. She recalls Solas had been scribbling his book. From across the fire, she'd ask what he was doing, and with a tilted smile he'd told her was 'drawing the scenery.' Ellana's eyes widen as they take in the sketch as much as they can. Ellana is... overwhelmed. Solas has drawn no one else in his book, not even Cole. Does this mean he feels the same for her as she does for him?

No, Ellana refuses to herself become to foolish and hopeful. It will only end badly.

"These are stunning," Ellana compliments honestly, handing the book back to him. "I never knew you had such an eye for capturing things."

"Only the beautiful things I find," Solas replies. Ellana stiffens, her blood simultaneously becoming icy cold but flaming hot. Solas knows Ellana saw the sketch of her. Was he calling her beautiful? Oh Creators, this is far more than Ellana expected would happen when Solas found her prying.

The apostate sits down, reaching forward for the metal mug on his desk Ellana had failed to notice. Ellana watches with her eyebrows raised as he takes a sip, pulls his face into a tight expression of disgust, shakes his head and slams the cup back down.

"Something wrong with your tea?" asks Ellana, trying to keep her voice level as to not give away her amusement.

"It is tea. I detest the the stuff," he says flatly. "But this morning I need to shake the dreams from my mind. I may also need a favour."

A favour? Ellana is surprised. Solas is one of the most capable people in the Inquisition. For him to actively seek her help must mean he's truly desperate. "You just have to ask," Ellana tells him.

Solas stands up and starts to pace. "One of my oldest friends has be even captured by mages. Forced into slavery. I heard the cry for help as I slept."

"When your friend was captured, how did he... she...?" Ellana's voice tails off. _Come on, give me something to work with here Solas_.

"It," he clarifies.

"It?" Ellana repeats.

"My friend is a spirit of wisdom," Solas explains. "Unlike the spirits clamouring to enter our world through the Rifts, it was dwelling quite happily in the Fade. It was summonsed against its will, and wants my help to gain it's freedom and return to the Fade."

"All right, Solas. Any friend of yours, apparently..."

"Thank you," Solas says, breathing out in relief. The edges of his eyes appear to be softer now. "I got a sense of my friends location before I awoke. I will mark it on our map."

_Our_? Ellana tries not to think too deeply into it, wanting to save any brain strain for the war room, which is where she's meant to be now.

"I'll have a word with my advisors to see the earliest we can go," she says, beginning to back out of the rotunda. "I'll get back to you."

"I look forward to it."

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Dorian making a kissing face over the rails.

***


	12. The Exalted Plains

Ellana doesn't expect it to be so desolate. Josephine had warned her prior that the situation was dire in the Exalted Plains, but Ellana didn't really consider how bad the war would've torn it up.

Ellana feels her chest go hollow as she stares at the ruins, realising this was once her ancestors homes. Before the humans almost wiped them out. She suddenly feels very less inclined to help anyone; especially humans. She tries to swallow the bitterness she feels when Blackwall talks to her. Thankfully, she's with Sera and Solas too. Solas looks saddened by the abandoned forts too. Sera is brashly indifferent, deliberately going out of her way to make comments about how she doesn't necessarily think the elves deserved it, but they could've tried harder.

They have inquisition business to attend to before they seek out Solas' friend. Vivienne also pulled Ellana to the side and requested her to bring back a snow wyverne heart of all things.

First thing they do is establish camps, which takes the best part of two days. Ellana can tell Solas is beginning to get antsy with waiting. She would too if she was in his position. Who knows when his friend will be taken away and slip through their grasps. Which is why Ellana cancels their agenda for the next day and dedicates the day into looking for the spirit of Wisdom.

Judging by Solas' map, his friend should be somewhere along the wide stretch of river. So that's where they head. Blackwall and Sera lag behind, sniggering at something as Solas and Ellana walk upfront. Solas sighs exasperatedly more than once, especially when Sera shrieks with laughter. Ellana has to admit, it's starting to grind on her too.

Eventually, the mages find out what's been so amusing the entire trip.

"Sera and I were just talking about you," Blackwall tells Solas. Ellana sees mild irritation flicker across his features. "We need you to settle a question for us."

Solas sighs. "Sera's involved? So this question will be offensive?"

"Yes, probably," Blackwall agrees heartily. "Sorry. You make friends with spirits in the Fade? So, um, are there any that're _more_ than just friends? _If_ you know what I mean."

"Oh for!" Solas exclaims exasperatedly. " _Really_?"

"Look," Blackwall says. "It's a natural thing to be curious about!"

"For a twelve year old!"

"It's a simple yes or no question," Blackwall grins as Sera snorts.

"Nothing about the Fade, or spirits, is simple," Solas says stonily. "Especially not that."

"Ha ha! So you _do_ have experience in these matters!"

"I did not say that," Solas argues quickly.

"Don't panic, it'll be our little secret," the Warden winks.

"Ass," Solas retaliates grumpily.

"Now who's twelve?"

***

Upon approaching the site Solas has marked, Ellana feels a tense knot form in her stomach. She can hardly bare to look at her apostate counterpart. It's hard to read his expression. There's something in his eyes that looks hopeful, but at the same time grave, like he knows something she doesn't. This is feasible. Solas has a bad habit of withholding information.

"Thank you for doing this, Ellana," Solas says quietly.

"It's alright," she says. "I just hope it's not too late for your friend."

He looks grim. "As do I."

They walk further, noticing the abundance of mutilated bodies in their path. Blackwall suggests it's bandits. Solas thinks different. He sounds panicked, looks frenzied. Ellana doesn't know what's going on in that head of his (when does she ever?) but can only guess it's dire.

In the distance, Ellana makes out a large outline of something. At first she presumes it's a boulder. The closer they get, Ellana's heart sinks even further as she realises this is no stone- it's a _Pride demon_.

"My friend!" Solas exclaims anguish. The demon growls.

"The mages turned your friend into a demon?" Ellana asks in disbelief. Solas looks down furiously

" _Yes_."

"You said if was a spirit of Wisdom, not a fighter," Ellana reminds him.

"A spirit becomes a demon when denied its original purpose!"

"So they summoned it for something so opposed to its nature that it was corrupted. Fighting?" Ellana asks for confirmation.

Someone has crept upon them, looking guiltier than sin. Ellana wonders if she'll have to hold Solas back. His anger is so raw Ellana can feel the invisible rivulets of magic pouring out of his fingertips. It tangles with her own.

"A mage!" the man exclaims. "You're not with the bandits? Do you have any lyrium potions? Most of us are exhausted. We've been fighting that demon..."

"You _summoned_ that demon!" Solas shouts. "Except it was a spirit of Wisdom at the time. You made it kill! You twisted it against it's purpose."

"I-I-I understand how it might be confusing to someone who has not studied demons. But after you help us, I can..."

"We are not here to help _you_ ," Solas snarls.

"Word of advice?" Ellana speaks up. "I'd hold off on explaining how demons work to my friend here."

"Listen to me!" the mage pleads. "I was one of the foremost experts in the Kirkwall Cirle-"

"Shut up," Solas snaps. "You summoned it to protect you from the bandits."

"I... yes," the mage admits.

"You bound it to obedience, then summoned it to kill. _That_  is when it turned." Solas looks at Ellana. "The Summoning Circle. We break it, we break the binding. No orders to kill. No conflict with its nature. No demon."

"What?" the other mage asks. "The binding is the only thing keeping the demon from killing us! Whatever it was before, it is a monster now!"

Ellana winces. Can he not see how incandescent with rage Solas is?

"Lana _please_ ," Solas begs.

"I studied binding rituals like this in my clan," Ellana admits. "I should be able to disrupt the bindings quickly."

" _Thank you_."

The demon stands up and roars, shuddering the earth beneath them. The mage hurls himself onto to ground in fear, arms over his head for protection.

"We must hurry!" Solas insists.

Ellana nods, willing the cogs in her head to turn quicker and formulate an on-the- spot plan. "I'll distract it," she says quickly, taking her staff in both hands. "Solas, Blackwall- you destroy the bindings. Sera, you don't mind being demon bait, do you?"

The archer shrugs. "I don't have much choice."

Good, it's a start. The Inquisitor waves a hand to the men, indicating them to go and make a start on the bindings. Her and Sera run forward, so close to the demon's proximity they can smell the foulness it emits. Sera wrinkles her nose in disgust.

"Phwoar. If I knew it would stink this bad I would've volunteered Solas for this, considering they've bonked in the Fade-"

"Now isn't the time, Sera," Ellana says through gritted teeth. "For Creators sake; don't _kill_ it, just distract it."

Sera nods, pulling her bowstring back and aiming an arrow dangerously close to the demons face. Because of her impeccable aim, it doesn't actually hit it's mark. This angers the demon, making it roar again and start to lumber  towards them. Both the elves start to jog backwards, Ellana sending her own stream of magic between its leg.

As if starts to shoot its own magic at them, Ellana realises maybe she's made a mistake.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Sera pants from running. "But that son of a bitch is angry, right?"

"Very much so," Ellana huffs short, sharp breaths. "So much so that if we stop running, we're dead."

This spurs them on for a short while longer. Ellana becomes more daring, running inbetween the demons legs and poking it with her staff. Considering its size, it's a lot slower and more lumbering than Ellana, therefore she's able to get out of the way quicker. Sera screams at her stop, that she's going to get herself killed. All Ellana can hear is the blood pounding in her ears and the crackle of the demon's magic.

"That girl of yours," Blackwall grunts whilst he hacks one of the bindings. "She's bloody fearless."

His girl? Blackwall can't mean Ellana, can he?

"Focus on the task," Solas says gruffly, certainly not in the mood to be discussing his love life.

After the fourth binding is broken, the demon howls at it sways to the ground, causing Ellana and Sera to jump up with it. Plumes of misty magic engulf it for a moment, before it transforms into the spirit of Wisdom that Solas knows and they fought so valiantly for.

"Lethallin," Solas bends down in front of it. " _I'm sorry_." He's speaking in Elven, whether he knows Ellana understands every word. She feels uncomfortable intruding in their conversion.

" _I'm not. I'm happy. I'm me again_ ," the spirit says. " _You helped me. Now you must endure. Guide me into death_."

Solas looks away, closing his eyes in anguish. " _As you say_." He makes a movement with his hands, causing the spirit to disinterested into ash and dissolve into the wind. Ellana looks on sadly. " _Dareth shiral_ ," Solas says quietly.

"I heard what you said," Ellana says softly. "It was right. You did help it."

"Now, I must endure."

"Let me know if I can help."

Solas stands up. "You already have," he tells her. "All that remains now is them."

"Thank you," the mage from earlier says, not so much of a cowering mess now the demon is gone. "We would not have risked a summoning, but the roads are too dangerous to travel without protection."

Solas advances on him intimidatingly. "You tortured and killed my friend!" he exclaims harshly.

"We didn't know it was just a spirit! The book said it could help us!"

Ellana averts her eyes as Solas ends the mage's life. She feels like she couldn't have denied him it. Maybe killing them would be the best way for Solas to stop grieving, by knowing he sought his vengeance successfully.

"Damn them all," Solas curses. "I need some time alone. I will meet you back at camp."

Ellana nods, even though he can't see her. She cannot make him stay. She just hopes when they do return back tonight he will be there, instead of running away.

***

Ellana, Blackwall and Sera spend the rest of the day sealing Rifts and helping the Dalish clan situated there (much to Sera's disgust.) As they walk back to camp, covered in blood and slime from demons, Ellana feels like it's been rather successful. If they continue to clean up at this rate, they'll be heading home in a few weeks. 

When they arrive at camp, Ellana looks forward to seeing Solas; even though he probably isn't in the mood to speak to her. Just being around him comforts her considerably.

Only, he isn't there. 

Throat tightening, Ellana asks one of the inquisition soldiers flanking the camp entrance where he's gone. "I think he left, Inquisitor," the soldier tells her. "Some time this afternoon. Were we supposed to keep him here?" 

Hanging her head, Ellana sighs. "No. No it's fine." Why had she expected him to stay? Why was she so naive?

That night, she avoids going down to the river to bathe with Blackwall and Sera. Neither of them have noticed Solas' absence. It appears that Ellana is the only one who ever notices when he isn't there. When they arrive back at camp, Ellana emerges from her tent and asks for them to be quiet for the night.

Amazingly, they listen. 

***

The party is back in Skyhold within the next three weeks. It's a relief to see the sturdy fortress; the only place where Ellana feels safe, with its fortified walls and hundreds of soldiers. The Exalted Plains had creeped Ellana out from the moment she had set foot there. All she could sense were the spirits and lost souls around her, hounding her from across the Fade. Perhaps if Solas had been there, he could have offered her a solution to stop them taunting her. Only, he wasn't. And four days after their arrival, he is still nowhere to be found. Ellana considers writing, then pulls herself together. She doesn't even know where he is. He could be halfway across Thedas by now, running away from the inquisition forever. 

The thought of him leaving for good hadn't crossed her mind until now. Now, she is terrified. Each day that passes, it's becoming more likely. And each day brings more anxiety and sickness in her stomach. What will she do with Solas? He has been with her every step of the way throughout her journey to becoming the inquisitor. She can't imagine the position without him being at her side. Who will she turn to when she's in need of knowledge; like with Corypheus' orb, or the Fade? Dorian's knowledge only stretches so far. 

It's another two weeks before hide nor hair is seen of Solas. Ellana is training with Dorian in the private practise arena when a messenger calls for her. "There's an elf asking for you, Your Worship," the messenger says hurriedly. "He's by the drawbridge." 

In seconds, Ellana has dropped her staff, vaulted over the fence and is sprinting across the yard to meet him. Dorian tuts, shaking his head as he collects their staffs and heads back inside. It is amusing, yet startling how quickly Ellana will drop everything for him. Dorian hopes it doesn't fire back at her one day. 

Ellana hurries to the bottom courtyard to greet a dishevelled, laden down Solas. She has to stop in her tracks, restraining herself from throwing her arms around him in a totally smothering fashion. The inquisitor just blinks at him in mild confusion, wondering why he looks so much weaker than the last time she saw him. 

"Inquisitor," is all the apostate greets her with. Ellana was hoping for something more than that, but in light of recent events, doesn't take it too personally.

"How are you, Solas?" she inquires. The question that has been burning her for weeks. Ever since the day he left camp, she has been wondering about his wellbeing. It was on her mind every minute of the day when she was clearing out the Exalted Plains, and occupied many of her thoughts back in Skyhold.

"It hurts," Solas says simply, his voice catching slightly. "It always does. But I will survive."

"Thank you for coming back," Ellana says sincerely. 

"You were a true friend," he reciprocates. "You did everything you could to help. I could hardly abandon you now." 

Hearing him admit he won't leave her makes her legs go weak with relief. The heavy lump of dread that has been manifesting in her stomach is evaporated, turning itself into elation. Even if now is the wrong time to feel it.

"Where did you go?"

"I found a quiet spot and went to sleep. I visited the place in the Fade where my friend used to be. It's empty. But there are stirrings of energy in the Void. Someday something new will grow there." 

"The next time you have to mourn, you don't have to be alone," Ellana says softly. 

Solas hangs his head. "It's been so long since I could trust someone." 

"I know."

"I'll work on it," Solas concedes. "And, thank you."

Her gaze lingers on him and her mind focuses on him long after he's ascended up the steps away from her. 

***


	13. The Confession

"So, how are you going to spend your day off?" Josephine asks Ellana before she leaves the war room for the night. She's been granted with her first day off in weeks by her advisors. She suspects they took pity on her when they saw how deep the bags under her eyes were, and how she can never keep her eyes open during their meetings.

"Sleeping, hopefully," Ellana says weakly. "But duty will probably call elsewhere, so I don't hold up much hope."

Josephine clicks her tongue sympathetically. "I'm sure your Circle can manage a day without your assistance."

The elf laughs, sounding more like a harsh bark. "You'd be surprised."

"Perhaps I could send word out to say you're not to be disturbed?" the ambassador offers kindly. "I am sure some agents would be obliging to stand outside your door."

Ellana feels the strongest surge of affection for her ambassador, warming her inside out. In the months of the inquisition being born, Ellana has very quickly found a best friend in Josephine. It's hard not to become infatuated with the loveable ambassador. Ellana looks forwards to their Orlesian lessons twice a week. They've started spending time together out of her office too. The inquisitor is told from other inquisition agents the ambassador speaks very highly and fondly of her. Never could Ellana imagine finding so many friends when she was labelled the 'Herald of Andraste.' She thought everyone would hate her by association. She's so glad she was wrong.

"Thank you, but there's no need," Ellana declines graciously. "If I get more than four hours sleep I shall be grateful." She pauses, cocking her head as she watches Josephine fumble for a stack of reports. "Why don't you ever take a day off?"

Josephine sighs, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear tiredly. "I'm afraid there will always be diplomatic matters to attend. If I were to ignore them for even one day... the results would most likely be disastrous."

"I bet you wish it was you falling out of the Fade," Ellana jokes weakly.

Josephine gives a small chuckle. "Oh I don't reckon myself inquisitor material. I aren't as fearless as you are."

"There's a fine line between fearless and stupid. I happen to toe the line."

"You get the job done efficiently and swiftly. That's all that matters," Josephine says. They're interrupted by Cullen and Leliana leaving the war room, heads together, deep in conversation. When they see Ellana perched on Josephine's desk, Cullen waves her over. The elf casts a look back at Josephine who shrugs, so she pushes herself off and walks over to him.

"Can I have a word with you in my office, Inquisitor?" Cullen asks with a sigh. He sounds, and looks, incredibly tense. He massages the knot forming between his eyebrows. His eyes are sagging worse than hers. Clearly, this is a man with a burden who isn't able to sleep at night either. Ellana knows only a little of Cullen's past, but guesses it's something to do with being a Templar. She's heard from Varric about what happened to the Kirkwall Circle; how Meredith went mad and Cullen had to stand up against his own forces. Ellana has never really had an opinion on it, only that she despises Templars even more. Unfairly so, but it's integrated into her. As it is with most mages. With all the Dalish horror stories that spread around her clan about innocent young girls being taken and abused by Templars, it's hard to find any even ground with them.

Ellana follows Cullen obediently. The rotunda is abandoned. It must be very late at night for this to occur. Usually Solas is working till late himself, and Dorian hangs around to see Ellana out of her meetings.

The short walk on the battlements to Cullen's office is pleasant. The air is crisp, welcoming on Ellana's hot flushed skin. It gets incredibly humid in the war room. She's hardly dressed for it either, in her heavy robes. Why she had it in her mind it would be cold was beyond her. Her brain must be too frazzled to think logically.

The atmosphere in Cullen's tower is strained. Tension crackles in the air, like little lightning bolts. Ellana watches her commander under a watchful eye. He sits down heavily at his desk, looking like he wishes he was anywhere but here. The feeling is mutual.

"I... have something I need to confess to you, Ellana," Cullen says eventually. Ellana knows these words can't be good. Her stomach twists uncomfortably as she mentally sturdies herself.

"You can tell me anything in confidence, Cullen," she promises. "Do you need help?"

Cullen finds it absurd that the first thing the inquisitor does is offer her help. He shouldn't be surprised. She's always willing to give her hand, no matter the consequences. Only the other night did Cullen learn that she'd helped Cole kill a man so he could become more human. Her humanity is a gift, and a curse at the same time. One day, she will meet someone who isn't deserving of her cordiality; and the likely result will lead to her getting hurt.

"No I-" Cullen let's out a deep breath he's been holding in for far too long.  _In through the nose_ ,  _out through the mouth_ , he reminds himself sternly.

"The Fereldan Circle...it was taken over by abominations. The Templars- my friends- were slaughtered. I was tortured. The tried to break my mind. And I- how can you be the same person after that?"

"You can't," Ellana says softly.

"Still. I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my Knight-Commander, and for what? Her fear of mages ended in madness. Kirkwall's Circle fell. Innocent people died on the streets. Can't you see why I want nothing to do with that life?"

"Of course I can. I..."

"Don't," Cullen cuts her off sharply. "You should be questioning what I've done."

"What, your duty?" Ellana asks incredulously. "What were you supposed to do?"

"Anything but what I did!" Cullen stops himself, realising he's taking his frustrations out wrongly on Ellana. "I thought this would be better- that I would regain some control over my life. But these thoughts won't leave me. How many lives depend on our success? I swore myself to this cause... I will not give less to the inquisition than I did to the Chantry. I should be taking it. I should be taking it!"

Cullen punches his bookcase frustratedly, causing Ellana to jump. It finally hits her that Cullen is talking about lyrium. He's... addicted to lyrium. She is surprised to say the least. Why had she never thought of that possibility? The symptoms were in front of her the whole time. Leliana would slip Cullen potions, telling him to take it easy. He would often come to the war room looking pale and drawn, trembling uncontrollably. Ellana's heart breaks into countless pieces for him. He is a  _good_  man, no matter what he thinks of himself. And undeserving of this.

"How can you even look at me?" Cullen asks lowly, not taking his eyes off his bookcase. "After who I was, what I did..."

"I will never forgive nor like the Templars," Ellana says truthfully. "But you have proven yourself different. Worthy."

This time Cullen looks up at her, looking grief stricken. " ** _There were so many Dalish_**."

"Don't, Cullen," she says quietly. "We have accepted each other. Please, lets not ruin it."

"And what about my addiction?" Cullen asks, wheeling around suddenly. "What do you think about that?"

Ellana hesitates, just taking in his appearance for a few seconds. He looks utterly exhausted; wrung out. Clearly he is struggling with his addiction, because of this Ellana feels like it isn't her place to tell him what to do. She doesn't understand what pain he goes through, all through the night; the nightmares that play in his head even when he's awake. When he closes his eyes, he can hear the battle of Kirkwall ringing loud in his ears as if he was stood there himself. Would lyrium help this? Perhaps it would make him sleep more easily, but there are draughts that can help him; Ellana will get Solas to look into it.

"You're a strong man, Cullen," she says. "No lyrium. That's an order from your inquisitor." 

"Did you not hear what I said?" he asks, voice raising. "I cannot give my all to the inquisition if!-"

He has advanced on Ellana, not aggressively, but rather in utter desperation. He tugs at his hair, and the curls begin to fall out of the gel he uses to slick it back. His eyes are wide, bloodshot with lack of sleep. Currently, he looks like a man possessed. But he will get there.

"Then what have you been giving the inquisition?" Ellana asks, calmly. "What made you so much better in Kirkwall than here? Surely not a potion. You're not that weak, Cullen."

The commander stops, looking down at her kind face smoothed by stoniness. She's right, of course she is. Women have an annoying habit of being right. Especially the women around Cullen; the strong, fearless ones. The Dalish mage staring him, a Templar, down with a cool look in her eyes is perhaps the most fearless.

"You think I can do it?" he asks, sounding so much younger. Like he's seeking approval and praise.

"You've done so well for so long," Ellana nods, resting a comforting hand on his elbow. "Why waste all that? And concerning your sleeping; I will see what Solas and I can do. Do you need any pain relief?"

Cullen begins to feel emotional. He shakes his head. "No- uh- no, that will not be necessary," he blusters. "I- thank you, Ellana," he says gratefully, amber eyes becoming damp. "Thank you for having faith in me."

"You had faith in me that I could become inquisitor, it is only fair I do the same for you," she smiles, glad the awkward tension in the room is easing off. It had become smothering. "Have you told Dorian?"

"Dorian?"

"Yes, you know; Tevinter mage, about  _this_  big, has a funny moustache? The one you play chess with," the little triumphant smile that creeps on her face tells Cullen everything he needs to know. "I take it he's a friend of yours too."

Cullen groans. " _Lana_."

"What?" she asks innocently, eyes widened for emphasis.

"Dorian has an idea, yes," Cullen admits. "But he doesn't know the ins and outs of it."

"Good," she says. "I'm glad you trust him. A Templar and a Tevinter... an unlikely friendship, but I'm glad it's working out for you both."

Friendship? Unlikely indeed.

***

"So, he told you?"

Ellana is sat beside Cassandra on a low wall as the Seeker sharpens her sword. They have been sat in silence for quite some time. Even though it isn't awkward, the Seeker felt the need to bring it up. She has been meaning to speak to Ellana about it, but couldn't find the time.

"Yes," the inquisitor says. "I take it he told you I forbade his use of lyrium?"

An inclination of a smile pulls the corner of Cassandra's lips. "He did, yes. And a wise choice too. I have seen too many men suffer the effects of lyrium. The Red Templars being prime examples. Cullen is an excellent commander, it would be a shame to see him deteriorate because of it."

"He's stubborn, but strong," Ellana concedes. "He'll do it."

Of course he will, there has never been any doubt that he could not.

***


	14. The Hawke Landing

Things are relatively quiet around Skyhold. Ellana knows it won't last long. She's correct in thinking this too, because one morning Varric pulls her to the side near his fireplace. His eyes are wider than usual, darting around nervously in a fashion that makes Ellana suspicious. She has an inkling he's been up to something these past few weeks, but has never investigated into it. Now she hopes he's going to finally tell her.

"Hey, Smiles," Varric rumbles quietly. "There's something I need to tell you."

"What's happened?" she asks, feeling assuaged. Knots start to twist in her stomach. She knows Varric runs an extensive network in the Merchant's Guild, and by all accounts (mostly Cassandra's disparaging ones) business can get pretty nasty. Ellana hopes Varric is more intelligent than to get himself tangled in dodgy dealings, but if he's in danger Ellana will do everything in her power to protect him.

"I'd tell you, but I think it'd be easier to show you," he tells her vaguely. This is a good sign. So he clearly isn't in that much trouble. Maybe he's just found something of interest, like a nearby red lyrium shard. Ellana starts to relax. "Do you know if Cassandra's around?"

"Um... no," Ellana shakes her head. "She's down in the training area. Why?"

Varric breathes a theatrical sigh of relief. "Thank the Maker," he mumbles. "We'd better be quick then. I wouldn't put it past her to appear out of nowhere."

Ellana follows him up to the battlements. Her egregiousness is now replaced with a burning need to know what Varric is concealing from Cassandra, and the rest of the inquisition. If it's out of sight up here, he must really be desperate.

Up on the battlements, the air is thinner and much more frigid. Ellana shivers slightly in her casual inquisition uniform, the grey cloth providing little protection against the cold. Thankfully her hair is secured tightly in tail, or it would be being whipped everywhere with the force of wind.

The secluded spot Varric takes her to is abandoned. There's absolutely nothing there. Ellana is starting to wonder if this is some elaborate trick. Why would Varric do that though? He's a busy man himself, and has no time to play childish hoaxes. 

In the distance, she hears a door rattle, coming from the tower of the tavern. Ellana is busy looking down at the courtyard with her arms crossed tightly against her torso to preserve some warmth. There's faint footsteps, and Varric clears his throat.

"Lana," he says. "Meet Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall."

Ellana swivels around quickly. Her jaw promptly drops open. He's magnificent. And every bit as handsome as the stories described him as. He looks weathered, slightly older than she expected. But there's something roguish about his good-looking features. 

"Though, I don't use that title much anymore."

"Hawke, this is Ellana Lavellan, the Inquisitor. I figured you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus."

"Wait," Ellana cuts the men off before they can say anything else. "You fought Corypheus?"

"Not my finest moment," Hawke sighs. "Varric and I fought him. We left him presumably dead, but here he is again."

"Good job on that," Ellana says wryly.

Hawke crosses his own arms, and Ellana almost chokes at the bulge of his muscles. She's never seen anyone so physically fit as him. Creators, she's starting to get a bit flustered. She tries to maintain a professional air and avert her eyes from his biceps, but even looking at his face is distracting her.

"That's exactly what Anders said to me when I told him," Hawke jokes.

Ellana already knows Anders is Hawke's lover. Varric has already told Ellana most the history of the Champion and his Kirkwall crew. On occasion, he's even let her read his memoirs about his time in Kirkwall.

"Corypheus was in Warden prison," Varric explains. "Hawke's father trapped him there with some of his blood. But there was more Hawke blood needed to ensure he was sealed there safely. So we killed him. Or, at least we thought we did," he says dryly.

"He used his connection to the darkspawn to influence the Wardens," Hawke informs.

"Corypheus got into their heads," Varric adds. "Messed with their minds. Turned them against each other."

"Do you think that's why the Wardens have disappeared?" Ellana asks.

"I would bet all the silvers in my pocket that's why," Hawke agrees. Varric raises his eyebrows.

"And just how many silvers do you have?"

"Three," Hawke shrugs. "But that's not the point. It's fortunate I know one Warden who hasn't disappeared or gone mad. Although I doubt he appreciated me writing to him," the champion chuckles slightly, giving Varric a knowing look.

"You brought Junior?" Varric asks disbelievingly.

"Yeah."

"Oh boy," the dwarf chuckles. "I bet he's pleased about that."

"He mentioned something in his correspondence about rather getting off with a genlock than seeing me again," Hawke smirks, then looks at Ellana. "This is my delightful little brother we're talking about. Who you'll soon have the pleasure to meet."

"If he's as charming as you are, I doubt there'll be much trouble."

Varric laughs loudly. "Carver's as charming as nug shit, but he's a good kid with a good heart."

"He's holed up in a cave in Crestwood at the minute," Hawke tells them both. "He was investigating something for me, reluctantly. To do with the Templars in Kirkwall using a strange lyrium that was red."

"Corypheus had Templars with him that sounded like they'd been taking the lyrium you're speaking of," Ellana observes. "It must all be linked."

"It seems that way," Hawke agrees. He leans over the battlements for a moment. "Varric, you go for a minute. I'd like to talk to Ellana privately for a bit."

"Shall I tell Cullen you're coming to see him?" Varric asks.

"Yes. I bet he's missed his favourite apostate," Hawke smiles.

Ellana's eyebrows flicker up. "I hate to tell you this, but I think I've taken that position now."

This seems to surprise the champion. "You're an apostate?" he asks. Ellana nods. He then laughs, sounding slightly bitter. "I bet Thedas loves that. Two Dalish heroes and three mages." 

Ellana shrugs. "Times are changing. Maybe our influence will stop them being so scared of us."

"Or make it even worse," he says, sounding stoic. "They'll see your mark as even more reason to be afraid."

"It's helping seal the Breach," Ellana says earnestly. "Why would they be scared?" Hawke looks at her. "Actually... I get what you mean. So far things haven't been that bad. I haven't encountered any nobles yet though. I suspect things might go downhill from there."

"I haven't had the privilege to meet many," Hawke says sardonically. "There were a few in Kirkwall... As you can imagine, we were never on the best of terms. They couldn't seem to understand how a scruffy Fereldan refugee became the Champion."

"Your fortitude wasn't good enough for them?" the inquisitor jokes.

He shakes his head. "Not until my mother had our nobility reinstated. After that they all tried to marry me off to their daughters. But I had someone else waiting for me."

"Anders?" Ellana asks tentatively. At the mention of his lovers name, Hawke's face seems to soften. Maybe Ellana imagines it.

"Yeah..." He pauses. "I'm sure you already know about what happened to the Kirkwall Chantry?" There's an edge to his voice now, like he's daring Ellana to say something against him. She wouldn't anyway. She doesn't even know the man. According to Varric, when Justice didn't take over, he was charismatic and funny in his own way.

"My clan were on the outskirts of Kirkwall when it happened," Ellana says quietly. "We felt the explosion and left as quickly as possible."

Hawke clicks his tongue, possibly disapprovingly. "He didn't know what he was doing back then," he says, almost sounding apologetic. "He was far gone by the time the Chantry exploded. But now he's away from Kirkwall, he's getting better."

"Good. I'm glad for you both," Ellana says sincerely. She means it. Everyone deserves their happy ending. Even possessed, runaway Wardens.

"I'm interested in seeing the Mark. May I?"

"Go for it," Ellana shrugs, holding her hand out obligingly. Hawke takes her hand carefully, lifting her palm closer to her face. Usually, a stranger ogling her hand would be completely off-limits for her. But she feels comfortable with Hawke. It's his pliable, amiable attitude.

"Fascinating," he mutters to himself. "I'd heard it was impressive but..." He shakes his head to snap himself out of whatever deep thoughts he was having. He lets go of her hand. "Anders would've loved to see thi- I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"Not at all," Ellana says kindly. "If I had a lover, I'd want to talk about them too."

"Now  _that's_  surprising," Hawke says. "You're a pretty girl. I'm surprised you haven't already got someone."

Ellana looks coy. "I'm working on it."

***


	15. The Warden

The journey to Crestwood is a tedious one. It consists of Dorian complaining about the abysmal weather and conditions of the South, Hawke being snarky (but somehow getting away with it, probably due to his looks) , Varric reminiscing about the old times in Kirkwall, and Cassandra spending the majority of her time scowling in Varric's direction.

Ellana feels more like a hectic mother than an inquisitor on this trip, herding her children into behaving themselves and not getting too rowdy. This is a difficult task; because Dorian, Hawke and Varric are making quite the team. The Champion and the Vint are practically flirting with each other, and Varric is making sharp quipping comments about Hawke's 'mage back home'. In the end, Ellana gives up on trying to restore some order to her party and hangs behind with Cassandra. The Nevarran looks repulsed at the men's cheery attitudes.

"The little shit," she spits venomously, clearly meaning Varric. "I am going to  _kill_  him."

"I don't blame you," Ellana says. "I see where you're coming from." Cassandra had told Ellana about her plans to make Hawke inquisitor (Ellana had been slightly hurt at first, but told herself to get a grip afterwards) and how when she interrogated Varric for information, the dwarf provided her nothing. Just spinning yarns of stories about their time in Kirkwall. When questioned about Hawke's whereabouts, Varric had firmly told the Seeker he had no idea where Hawke and Anders had escaped to, and that sending a letter was fruitless because no one knew his location. It turned out the two runaway apostates had been holed in a cottage in the Anderfels.

And Varric knew all along.

Cassandra looks surprised by Ellana's compliance. The Seeker assumed she would take the dwarf's side considering they are friends. Cassandra doesn't realise that Ellana values her as her closest female friend (apart from Josephine.) Ellana has grown to love the Seeker's grumpy attitude. Somehow she's never had the courage to admit to Cassandra how much she appreciates and admires her. Cassandra also seems shy about talking about her gratitude to Ellana for being her closest friend. When the Seeker first pulled Ellana from the Conclave, she never imagined the two of them would become this close, let alone know each other properly at all.

"Your language is quite colourful, Dorian," Hawke observes as they squelch through yet another marsh. "Could you write a list of curses down for me? I want to confuse Anders with them."

"I'll get out dwarven friend to do it for us. He can add it into one of his steamy novels."

"Shall I use them when the snarky Vint slips away to the Commander's bedchambers?" Varric asks, faux musing. He even strokes his chin for emphasis. "What's that one you said?  _Vishante kaffas_?"

"Meaning 'you shit on my tongue'," Dorian explains. "Which I hope our commander won't do."

Ellana feels slightly queasy at the thought of Dorian's tongue going anywhere near the commander. She fears she won't be able to ever look Cullen in the eyes again. Cassandra makes her disdain known, and lets out a disgusted scoff. " _Unbelievable_ ," she murmurs darkly.

"Cheer up, Seeker," Hawke flashes a dazzling smile over his shoulder at her. "The cave is just ahead."

Cassandra gives him a flat look, not responding. Ellana will never point out the fact that a slight tinge has crept onto Cassandra's cheeks. She is only human, after all.

The cave doesn't provide any more warmth or dryness than the outside does. Water drips off the stone walls, echoing and making a distorted tune like an orchestra. Ellana avoids stepping on the animal bones littering the ground. She really hopes Hawke's brother hasn't been living in these squalid conditions for too long.

Hawke and Ellana leave the others in the mouth of the cave. Dorian lights a fire for them and shrugs off his robes, beginning to dry them. Cassandra kneels down by the fire with a sigh, keeping as much distance away from her and Varric as possible. Ellana is only mildly concerned that she'll jump across the fire to throttle him. She trusts if it came to blows between them, Dorian would put a stop to it. Or not. He would probably think it's amusing.

"Just a word of warning," Hawke murmurs before they reach the heart of the cave. "Carver isn't the easiest person in the world to get along with. He can be quite rude at times, so I apologise in advance."

"I'm friends with Dorian," Ellana reminds him. "I think I can handle it."

Ellana half expects Hawke's brother to be a crazed man with a beard down to the ground, hair a matted mess, and gnawing the corpse of a nug.

She's greeted by very much the opposite. Carver Hawke is a very tall, good-looking man; who, even after living in a cave for Creators knows how long, looks smart and presentable in his Warden armour and his hair combed.

"Brother," he greets Hawke coldly.

"Carver!" Hawke says enthusiastically, holding his arms out wide. "It's been too long."

"Not long enough," the younger Hawke mutters. He straightens himself up from looking at the maps on the ramshackle table. When he sees Ellana, he has to blink twice. "Hello," he says, sounding awkward.

"Carver isn't used to seeing women in the flesh," Hawke explains, whilst his brother scowls at him. "Don't mind him."

"Ha ha," Carver rolls his eyes. "Garrett is an ass, don't mind him."

"I don't mind either of you," Ellana says ardently. "Pleased to meet you, Warden Hawke."

Carver seems flustered at being addressed so formally. Amongst his ranks he's just known as 'Hawke'. Being called by his actual title is so unusual, he immediately detests it. It's not her fault though. He doesn't want to make a complete tit out of himself in front of the first girl his sorry eyes have laid on in months.

"It's just Carver," he manages.

"Alright brother, you're here to help us with Corypheus not gawp at the inquisitor. Have some respect for yourself."

Carver scowls. "One day..." he mutters darkly, then sighs, unclenching his fists.

"I appreciate your help," Ellana says sincerely. "I know the Wardens have troubles of their own. Do those troubles have anything to do with Corypheus?"

"I think so," Carver says. "When Garrett killed Corypheus the first time- good job on that by the way- the Wardens thought it was over. Archdemons don't die from simple injury. I thought Corypheus might have the same power, so I started investigating."

"You can read?" Hawke asks in amazement. Carver pointedly ignores his comment, but starts to grind his teeth slightly.

"I found hints, but no proof. And then, not long after, the Wardens in Orlais began to hear the bloody Calling."

"You never told me," Hawke says, the shift in his tone is scary. Instead of being his usual, trenchant self; he sounds like a worried older brother showing solicitude to his siblings well-being.

"Like you'd care," Carver snorts, rolling his eyes. Only for an infinitesimal moment does pain flicker across Garrett's face. "It's a secret. A very dangerous one. I do try to keep  _some_  of my oaths to the Wardens." Ellana senses weight to his words, Garrett does too.

"I had no other choice," the older Hawke says. "You would've died otherwise."

"Yeah, I know," Carver says quietly. "I don't blame you. I should thank you, but I don't think my pride would stretch to that."

Hawke inclines a small smile.

"Every Grey Warden in Orlais is hearing it," Carver continues his explanation. "They think they're dying. Corypheus caused this somehow. If all the Wardens die, who will stop the next Blight? That's what has them so scared."

"They're playing straight into Corypheus' hands," Ellana says bitterly.

"Corypheus is tied to the Blight, and not just a product of it like darkspawn," Carver says darkly. He leans heavily against the table, both hands splayed in front of him. Ellana sees the enormity of his arm muscles, and once again, is almost deemed speechless.  _Now is not the time Ellana_ , she tells herself with a firm hand. "Wardens are connected to the darkspawn too. Which is why he's able to control Wardens who are too close to him. That's likely what he's doing here as well."

"So the Wardens are making one last, desperate attack on the darkspawn?" asks Ellana.

"I saw what the Blight did to Ferelden," Carver says. "If Wardens hadn't stopped it, there'd be no more Thedas. Warden-Commander Clarel suggested some drastic things- blood magic and such- to prevent further Blights before we die. I disagreed, maybe too loudly, and here I am."

Carver points to a dot on the map. "Wardens were gathering here in the Western Approach. It's an old Tevinter ritual tower. I want to investigate it. I could use some help." 

"Is that aimed at Ellana or me?" Hawke asks. "I don't want to intrude, brother. We know what happened last time."

"I can use all the help I can get," Carver says stiffly. His blue eyes briefly find Ellana's. She now understands why they're called 'Ferelden blue'. She's never seen blue eyes that bright, or pretty. "You better not bloody bring Anders though," Carver warns threateningly. Hawke holds his hand to his chest in mock hurt. Carver ignores him, and turns to Ellana, hands respectfully behind his back.

"Your help would be appreciated, Inquisitor."

"I'll do whatever I can," she promises. "It's just Ellana, by the way."

"That reminds me," Hawke clicks his fingers. "Are you still with Merrill?"

Carver's face falls slightly. "No," he says, his eyes drop down to the ground. "That ended quite a while ago."

"Ah," Hawke sucks his tongue. "That's a shame. But on the bright side, Ellana is single too."

Ellana chokes, and Carver seems appalled. "Brother!" he hisses. " _Shut_  it!"

"I'll give you two some time to mull over it on the way to Skyhold," he raises an eyebrow, before sauntering away.

"I'm sorry about him," Carver says quickly. "He's an idiot-"

"It's alright," Ellana smiles. "I've had to deal with him for two days straight. I know how you feel."

Carver weakly smiles back, glad the two of them are on some common ground.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can probably tell I love Carver a whole lot and I have a bad habit of going off on a tangent about him. I think he's one of the most misunderstood characters in the game, along with Loghain. But that's a different story :)


	16. The Ghost of The Spire

Ellana helps Carver settle into his quarters in Skyhold, inbetween his brother's and Iron Bull's. Ellana sympathetically tells him he probably won't get much sleep in the quarters next to the promiscuous Qunari. The Warden just sighs, continuing to shove his belongings in the drawers. She leans against the wall, watching him. Out of two Hawke brothers she's encountered, Carver is her favourite. There's something about him that reminds him of herself; quiet, looking to do the right thing.

They talk mindlessly for a few more minutes. Then, "what was it like in Kirkwall?"

Carver balks, lowering his final tunic slowly in the top drawer. His eyebrows draw together in consideration, slowly closing then drawer.

"Shitty," he replies. "No," he shakes his head. "It wasn't all bad. I made friends there, made a life. Part of me actually grew to love it. Until the end, that is."

"The end?" Ellana presses subtly. She doesn't expect Carver to tell her anything, especially not something personal like this. She's willing to give it a shot though. "When the Circle fell?"

"I was there you know," he tells her. "When Meredith went mad. I saw the explosion and knew I had to go back. For Garrett," he clarifies, as if Ellana hasn't guessed. "Stroud wasn't too happy, but he understood. He had family too, once. Garrett was-  ** _is_** \- all I have now. I fought beside him in the Gallows when Meredith tried to turn the Templars against Kirkwall. I don't know how far they would've gone with her. I wouldn't like to say. It's fortunate that Garrett had the balls to step in when he did. Maker knows what would've happened to Kirkwall if he hadn't."

"You and your brother are very brave," Ellana tells him, because she thinks he needs to hear it.

" _Me_?" His reaction isn't exactly what she expected. Either he's a slyly modest man, or he's not used to praise. "Thank you, Inquisitor." He stops. "I bet you must think we're awful," he says lowly. "Humans."

"You are," Ellana agrees truthfully, slightly arch. "Some of you are bearable though."

What comes out of his mouth in somewhere inbetween a chuckle and a sigh. "At least you're honest. In Kirkwall, I had a friend who was Dalish. She'd never admit to hating it, but I reckon she did." Ellana catches the soft affection in his voice at the mention of the elf.

"You miss her?"

The Warden looks away, scratching his arm. "Not so much anymore."

"Who do you miss the most?" Her incessant prodding for information is starting to irritate even herself a little bit. She's just curious. There's nothing wrong with a thirst for knowledge, as long you know when to stop before you cross the line. She knows now that she's crossed the line, and wants to kick herself for it. What was she  _thinking_?

"Bethany," Carver says softly. "My sister. She died before just before we came to Kirkwall. If I had been a mage... I don't know. Maybe I could've saved her. Not that it matters now. Was there anything else you wanted to know?"

"What do you mean ' _could_   _have saved_ '?"

Carver frowns. "The darkspawn... I wasn't.. I'm sorry, Inquisitor."

She nods respectfully, knowing she's overstepped the mark.

***

Ellana takes a few days to recuperate; recovering from her injuries, reading some reports, gaining her strength back. It's all tedious, of course. As she sits bent over her desk for the sixth consecutive hour, she realises just how much she misses the open space and freedom of going on expeditions. Although her experience in Crestwood was far from pleasant, she'd rather be there than writing a report about her time there.

Eventually, neck cramp and fatigue gets the better of her. Ellana moodily pushes her reports away with the explosive temper of a brooding teen. She's never really had much chance to act her age due to the heavy responsibility she's always been burdened with. She couldn't in her clan because she was the Keeper's First, and now she's the Inquisitor. Both titles for much older people to bear. But Ellana has grown to be wise beyond her years. She knows what she's doing and can handle it. Or rather, she has a  _vague_  idea.

Ellana pads down to the courtyard. She is really going to see Blackwall; however, Solas and Cole come down the steps together. Cole is practically shouting at Solas, the most heated Ellana has ever heard him. Her ears strain as she tries to pick out bits of what he's saying without making it obvious she's eavesdropping.

"-it isn't abuse if I ask!"

This immediately concerns Ellana. She can't stop herself turning around to see what's going on.

"Not always true," Solas argues. "Also, I do not practise blood magic, which renders this entire conversation academic."

Cole sees Ellana standing helplessly. He walks towards her. Under the brim of his hat, his face is twisted indignantly and pleadingly.

"He won't bind me," Cole exclaims. "He's a mage, and he likes demons, but he won't help."

"Why would you  _want_  Solas to bind you?" Ellana asks, mildly horrified.

"So I'm safe!" Cole turns on Solas again. "If Solas won't do ritual to bind me, someone else could.  _Will_! Like the Warden mages! And then-" his head hangs. " _I'm not me anymore_.  _Walls around what I want_ ,  _blocking_ ,  _bleeding_ ,  _making me a monster_."

Ellana gnaws her lip. Her conscience is conflicted between two of her closest friends. Cole's request is outlandish and dangerous, but what if he's unsafe if he isn't bound? Ellana doesn't want him to be in danger. Or worse, to  ** _feel_**  like he is. But Solas is far more knowledgeable and level-headed, he knows the risks of running a binding. So if he protests against it...

There has to be a compromise. Nothing is ever as simple as having two solutions. There'll be a loop, somewhere. An alternative.

"There has to be some middle-ground between 'do nothing', and 'bind Cole with blood magic'," Ellana reasons calmly.

"Indeed," agrees Solas. "I recall stories of amulets used by Rivaini seers to protect spirits that are summoned from rival mages. A spirit wearing the amulet of the Unbound was immune to blood magic and binding. It should protect Cole as well. The resources of the inquisition could be used to find such a talisman."

"Good," Cole says flatly. "They  _will_  not take me."

The spirit storms away in the direction of the tavern.

Ellana looks at Solas guiltily. "I feel like there was something more I could've said."

"No," Solas tells her. "There was not. I do not think Cole fully understands what he is asking. It's fortunate we are here to protect him from himself."

Ellana has now forgotten all pretences of catching up with her friends. Now, her mind is consumed with worry for Cole and what foolish extent he might go. Because Ellana knows that somebody out there will bind him, no questions asked.

"Why does he not feel safe?" she asks.

Solas sighs. He sounds a thousand years old with burden. "He refrained from saying. When he has calmed down, I will ask. For now, all I can do is speculate."

"I'll get Josie to get agents to scout for the amulet," Ellana promises firmly. "Don't worry, Solas. We're going to do what's best for him."

"I know you will stop at nothing less for him," Solas says. "I have every faith in you, Lana."

And that's more than enough, really.

***

It takes a while for the amulet to be found. In the meantime, Ellana and her party go for a quick trip around the Storm Coast. Not for anything in particular, just to check the situation with the Rifts is still under control, and to garner some more supplies.

Dorian, Cassandra, Sera and Varric provide good company. There never seems to be a dull moment where they mischievous rogues and snarky mage are.

Cassandra is much more reserved. Her and Varric still bicker with the same gusto they did when Ellana first met them. The elf thinks that by now, all would be forgiven and forgotten between them. Apparently not. Ellana also notices that Varric looks particularly suspicious this trip, and gets an inordinate amount of letters addressed to him.

Ellana doesn't dwell on it too much. She's too anxious about Cole's wellbeing. When she'd invited him to the Storm Coast, he'd asked in a quiet voice if it was alright for him to stay in Skyhold where it was safe. Ellana hadn't been offended by his rejection, just very concerned.

The first thing Ellana does when she returns to the stronghold is burst into the war room and ask about the whereabouts of the amulet. It's been a couple of weeks. There must be some progress by now.

When Leliana presents her with it, Ellana almost kisses her on the spot. She's granted permission to give it to Cole. "Without delay," Josephine says as Ellana races out the room.

Cullen looks thoroughly confused as he watches the elf sprint out the room at an incredible speed. "Why did we waste inquisition recourses and time on an amulet?" he asks distastefully.

"The same reason we provide you your pain-relief potions," Leliana replies snippily. "To help."

***

Cole is delighted when Ellana hands him the amulet. He hugs it to his chest protectively and lets out such a torrent of thanks, Ellana almost has to clap her hand over his mouth. The praise and gratitude grows awkward and frankly tiresome. The spirit thankfully stops before they reach the rotunda.

"What do I do with it?" Cole asks Solas as he walks in.

Solas rises from his chair. "You found one of the amulets? Excellent. May I?" Cole gives him it, and he begins his inspection of it straightaway.

"It it simple enough," Solas concludes. "You put it on, I charge it with magic and you should be protected."

"You know it's not just going to work, right?" Ellana says dryly. "It never just  _works_."

"Have faith, Lana," Solas tells her. He holds his arm out, a foot away from Cole's chest. He attempts to enchant the amulet, causing Cole to cry out in either shock or pain.

A second hasn't passed before Varric unsuspectingly strolls in. "What was that?" the dwarf asks. He sees the mages and spirits stood close together, and puts two and two together. "Oh for..." he says exasperatedly. "What are you doing to the kid?"

"Stopping blood mages from binding me like the demons," Cole informs him. "But it didn't work."

"Something is interfering with the enchantment," Solas provides.

Varric crosses his arms. "Something like Cole not being a demon?" he asks, a stony edge to his voice. Ellana hesitates.

"I mean...  _is_  it possible the amulet doesn't work on Cole because he's too human?" she asks.

"Regardless of Cole's special circumstances," Solas replies sharply. "He remains a spirit."

"Yes," Varric says sarcastically. "A spirit who is strangely like a person!

"I don't matter," Cole says, starting to pace. "Just lock away the parts of me that someone else could knot together to make me follow."

"Focus on the amulet," instructs Solas. "Tell me what you feel."

" _Warm. Soft blanket covering. But it catches. Tears. I'm the wrong shape. There's something_..." he pauses to turn around and point. "There. That way."

"It appears we have something to find," Ellana shrugs. "I  _told_  you it never just works."

"All right, kid," says Varric. "Get Cullen and work with him on the map to figure out where you're sensing something wrong."

"Will you come with me? All of you?" Cole requests.

"Sure," the dwarf agrees.

Cole disappears, mumbling under his breath. 

"All right, I get it," Varric says, turning to Solas. "You like spirits. But he came into this world to be a person. Let him be one."

"If I see a way to protect Cole without taking away... whatever he is, I'll use it," Ellana bargains. "But Cole clearly needs our help."

"I'm not saying we do nothing," Varric corrects her. "But that ritual of theirs only works on demons, right?"

"This is not some fanciful story, child of the stone," Solas rounds on Varric. "We cannot change our nature by wishing."

"You don't think?"

"However we deal with the problem, our next step is to track down whatever is interfering with the enchantment."

"There's nothing we can do for now," Ellana says, leaving it at that.

Her and Varric leave to return to their duties. Once out of earshot of Solas's tower, Ellana comments "I wish we could change our nature by wishing," she sighs. "I wouldn't have such skinny legs."

Varric chuckles. "And I'd be a lot taller. But Cole doesn't have to wish. We can help him be a person. You know that don't you? Or are you going to side with Solas because of the angsty Elven tryst you have going on?"

Ellana chokes. "The  _what_?" she asks, aghast. "There is no 'tryst'! Cole is my friend too, and I will go against Solas' idea if it means Cole is happier in the long run."

Varric smiles slightly. "I knew you wouldn't let me down, Smiles."

***

The path of the amulet takes them to Redcliffe. Cole leads them to man dressed fancifully with even more ridiculous facial hair. Upon seeing him, Cole tenses and clenches his fist. None of them have any of idea of the connection between row two of them.

In a flash, Cole has the man pinned to the floor by pressing his hand against his head. "You killed me!" Cole exclaims angrily.

"What?" the man asks incredulously. "I don't...I don't even know you!"

"You forgot! You locked me in the dungeon in the Spire. And you forgot. And I died in the dark!"

Ellana's stomach lurches. She's never considered Cole possessing a dead man, and now she has the knowledge, pity floods over her like a tidal wave. The poor, poor helpless boy. A scared boy, cowering in the dungeons of some tower. Starving, dehydrated. Terrified. Tears choking him. Death having him by the throat and squeezing him gently, drawing the process out as long and horrifically as possible.

"The Spire?" the man repeats.

"Cole stop!" Ellana urges. The spirit relents. The party race up to him as the man scampers away.

"'Just take it easy, kid," Varric says.

"He killed me!" Cole shouts. "He killed me! That's why it doesn't work. He killed me and I have to kill him back."

"Before anyone gets killed we need to know what's going on," Ellana says forcefully. " _Now_."

"Cole this man cannot have killed you," Sola says. "You are a spirit. You have not even possessed a body."

" _A broken body_.  _Bloody_ ,  _banged on the stone cell_.  _Guts gripping in the dark dank_.  _A captured apostate_. They threw him into the dungeon in the Spire at Val Royeaux. They forgot about him. He starved to death. I came through to help... and I couldn't. So I became him. _Cole_."

"If Cole was an apostate, that'd make the guy we just saw a Templar. Must've been buying lyrium," Varric says.

"Let me kill him," Cole demands coldly. "I need to... I need to."

Ellana watches him with widened eyes. "Cole will never grow into a real person until he comes to terms with what happened," she says firmly, almost daring Solas to disagree with her. The disapproving frown etched upon his face says more than any words.

"Leave it to me," Varric says. He walks over to where Cole is stood. "All right, kid. You want revenge? Come with me."

She watches them leave, heart heavy with the burden of whether her decision was the right one to make. But it was never hers in to first place, it is Cole's and Cole's alone.

***

The three of them talk it out in the rotunda. Solas still looks severely displeased with their compromise, but has given up arguing with them. Cole enters, clutching his side and limping slightly.

"It still hurts. When do I stop hurting?"

"If you ever do find the answer to that question, do let me know," Ellana says.

"Come on, kid," Varric says kindly. "Let's go for a walk. It'll clear your head."

"The Left Hand misses a friend with two different names. She's hurting, sad, alone, but... Everyone can  _see_  me now. They remember. How do I put honey Leliana's wine without her noticing?"

"I can help with that," reassures Varric. Once they're alone, Solas talks to Ellana for what feels like the first time in an eternity.

"It is good that he is not entirely changed. However human he becomes."

"He will always want to do good," Ellana remarks.

"You and him both share that quality," Solas says, sounding tired. Ellana suspects he is. She is too. She exits his office, wondering if she can still catch up with Varric and Cole.

***


End file.
